


From the Last to the First

by hiddencait



Series: Surviving [1]
Category: Aliens (1986)
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Gen, Smut, Warning for violence against a child off screen, completely denying the next movie because of reasons, too many random crossover characters to name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2013-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 21:04:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/816048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiddencait/pseuds/hiddencait
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ripley, Hicks, Bishop, and Newt have survived the hell on LV-426, and they wake from hypersleep thinking they're home free. However, with a sudden invasion of a squad of marines, a company bitch, and one intimidating agent, the new family finds themselves taken into custody and under investigation for half a dozen crimes Weyland-Yutani claims they've committed. They'll need the help of old allies and new friends if they ever want to free themselves and find something like home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So I had comments on the little drabble that I set after this story, and I was shocked to realize I'd never crossposted this to AO3! I was so freaking proud of this fic, so it's totally worth sharing lol.
> 
> Original AN: This has been such a delight and a challenge. I’m still thinking I’m crazy for attempted my first BigBang with a fandom I’d never written in. But hey, we’re all mad here anyway. Hope you enjoy it my dears! Big thanks to my betacreature Askita as well. 
> 
> Also you MUST check out the awesome art and mixes created by my darling Sourpony! http://hetbigbang.weebly.com/sourpony---from-the-last-to-the-first-artwork.html 
> 
> BTW, be on the look out for quite a few cross-fandom cameos. Why create side characters when I can borrow them from other places? *grin*
> 
> And no, I don’t own ANYTHING from any of the cannon in any of the fandoms that you recognize. And that makes me sad.

**Prologue**  
   
Though exhaustion was beginning to cloud her vision, Ripley didn’t look away as the chamber closed down around Newt’s tiny form. She just stood there, a tired smile on her face until the little blond miracle of a survivor finally drifted off into the depths of hypersleep. The blessedly dreamless depths of hypersleep. Newt might have asked if she could dream, but really, it would be almost be better for her, Ripley thought, to have the experience of falling asleep and waking without nightmares, artificial though the process might be. At this point, Ripley would just hope for anything that might keep her little girl from being utterly terrified of letting herself rest.  
   
Her little girl, Ripley thought. The words in her mind both soothed her soul and damn near ripped it to pieces. An image of another little girl and the twelfth birthday her mother never got to spend with her wavered like tears in front of her mind. Ripley had to turn away from Newt’s chamber or dissolve into sobs at the memory of Newt’s relieved cry of “Mommy.”  
   
Fighting to keep that grief from burying her relief that at least _this_ daughter had survived, Ripley busied herself with making one last round of checks throughout the ship. It was lucky she had as much experience as a flight officer as she did; Bishop had been in no shape to pilot much of anything, literally in pieces as he was. Not that it had stopped the synthetic from trying, though. She’d appeased his apparent need to aid the other survivors despite the wreckage of his body by allowing him to walk her through to process of setting up the nanite repairs in his chamber. Ripley had actually needed the help with that system, after all.  
   
She’d also needed to get the wounded synthetic out of sight for a while, to try to banish the image of half of him covered in his own fluids and clinging to the floor and Newt with every bit of strength his upper body had left. Ripley didn’t want to like an android just on principle, but fuck if she didn’t admire at least one despite herself. It was a little easier to face Bishop now that he was carefully cleaned up and tucked away, hypersleep leaving his face relaxed and almost serene. She tapped the top of his chamber almost affectionately and then turned to face the third chamber, the one next to her own.  
   
There was no one awake to hide from, and she allowed herself to linger awhile as she stared down at Hicks’ slumbering form, letting the sight of him ease some of the twisted thoughts and emotions within her. There was nothing about the man in this chamber that set her ill at ease, and that alone would have made her more than a little uncomfortable if she’d been alert enough to really comprehend it. It didn’t, though, not now. Not enough to matter, anyway, not with Hicks alive and as well as could be expected, with his handsome face and smooth muscled chest  swathed in too many gauze bandages to count. He’d be fine, she told herself. He had to be. She needed him to be, needed him to give her that glimpse of something like a future. Something like a family, maybe.  
   
She didn’t really know what else to call that comfortable partnership they’d already started building. Ripley just didn’t have a frame of reference for it. Truthfully, she hadn’t spent anywhere near as much time being a wife as she ever had being a mother. Her ex had barely been a blip on her radar of priorities during their marriage, but then again, while flatteringly attentive during their courtship, he’d never shown even a fraction of the admiration and respect her Marine had already demonstrated. And yes, she and Matt had spent enough time in bed to produce their daughter, but they’d never had anything like the heat she felt from Hicks with just a look alone.   
   
Ripley prayed to whatever deity might be listening, that he’d heal enough to keep giving her that look. That they’d have a chance to find out whatever was or might be between them, and that she’d have time to work through her own insecurities. She stroked the lid just above his face, admitting to herself in the easy haze of exhaustion that she wished it was skin beneath her fingertips. If she had her way, it would be soon enough. She stroked the panel by his cheek again, and then pulled herself reluctantly away as a yawn escaped her.  
   
She tapped out the last few commands for her chamber, and then stretched one last time and lay down just before the lid began to close. She had just enough time to glance back toward Hicks, inexplicably comforted by the way his head seemed still turned to watch for she and Newt, even in sleep. She gave him one last sleepy smile, and then turned her head back toward the young girl in the last chamber.  
   
“Sweet dreams, baby,” Ripley whispered, then the cold chill slipped over her, and sleep pulled her under.


	2. Chapter One

Awareness returned with a harsh tickle in the back of the throat, followed by a cough and a gasp for breath in cold air.  Hicks coughed again, his mouth painfully dry and tasting like warmed over shit. He licked his lips disgustedly, trying to rid himself of the added metallic aftertaste that told him he’d been drugged with something before he’d hit hypersleep. The drugs and the itchy, constricting feel of bandages around his chest, left arm, and face warned him he’d gotten his ass kicked some way or other.  
   
Eyes still closed, Hicks tried to work through the fog that waking up from hypersleep always left to figure out just what the fuck he’d done to himself this time. Must have been something pretty impressive if Top and the others were staying this quiet around him. He moaned slightly as his left side began screaming through the lingering effects of the drugs and ‘sleep. Where the hell was Dietrich with another shot?  
   
“Top?” he tried weakly. “Die-Dietrich?” No one answered, though he swore he could hear the faint shuffle and groan of someone else on the ship near by. The sound caused his first mistake of the artificial morning: he tried to turn on his side and open his eyes, and his world exploded into pain.  
   
“Shit! Apone!” Hicks half curled into a ball, part of him instinctively craving the comfort of the fetal position and part of him cringing as the movement pulled the wounds on his left side, causing the pain to spike even higher. “Hudson… Where the fuck are all of you?”  
   
His hands scrabbled at the bandages over his face as he tried to see something fucking _anything_ around him, the disorientation and pain forcing rationality into the recesses of his mind. He just needed… Fuck what did he need? Just when he was close to hyperventilating and humiliating himself for life in front of his squad, things got worse. A weight pushed him back down into the chamber from his right side, and then another latched on to his left wrist, pinning his hand down away from the bandages. He fought or tried to; his body seemed almost pathetically weak compared to who ever held him down. Neither force let go even as he struggled, though the one on his left seemed to falter for a moment against his thrashing. Words began to sink in from around him, voices he knew he should know trying desperately to reach him through the haze of his panic.  
   
“Hicks! Hicks, calm down. Please!” The girl’s voice was scared and something in him wanted to comfort her, but it wasn’t enough to shake him. It was the other voice that finally broke through the haze.  
   
“Dwayne, listen to me. You’re safe now! Dwayne? Hicks? Hicks, can you hear me? Damn it Corporal, stand down!”  
   
He wasn’t sure if it was the use of his rank instead of the nearly unfamiliar first name, or the sheer aggravation in her voice, but at the order, Hicks felt himself suddenly stop moving. His heart was still racing and panic lurked, but he wasn’t fighting anymore. The weight on his left finally let go, and after a faint pound of feet against the metal floor, a tiny hand slipped into his right. He supposed that was an improvement. Hoped so, at least.  
   
“Good, that’s good. You’re all right now. I’ve got you.” Another larger hand came to rest warm and smooth against his cheek, and he felt himself lean into the touch almost instinctively. “I’ve got you. Now I need you to open your right eye, OK? Just your right, though. Your left is covered by the bandage and you won’t be able to see with that one.”  
   
Hicks licked his lips again and then he painfully cracked open his right eye. It felt sticky, almost sealed shut, and he winced at the sheer effort it took to drag it all the way open. His vision swam for a moment, but then it cleared, revealing what must have been two of the most beautiful sights he’d seen in quite a while.  
   
Curled up half on the bed next to him was a tiny angel, all but lost in what was likely one of his shirts and one hand clutching his like a lifeline. Her eyes were huge and worried in that tiny face, and he tried to smile away a little of that worry. Newt, his mind whispered, memory flooding back through him at the sight of her face. She was alive. That fact brought a stronger smile to his face. It faded slightly as he remembered just why he was so relieved to see her alive. Last thing he remembered, she’d been taken. Taken to the nest to become another host for those disgusting things. There hadn’t been much hope of getting her back. Not much hope at all. That she was here at all meant…  
   
His eye tracked right from the young girl to the woman beside her. His gaze drifted across pale skin and dark curls to a striking face and brown eyes staring down at him. Just a trace of a smile pulled at her lips, and once again Hicks felt an answering smile appear on his own face. Maybe a little bruised, maybe tired as hell. But she was still standing, and a lot more steadily than he was right now. Yeah, he thought, she could definitely handle herself.  
   
“Ripley. _Ellen._ ” He grimaced at the croak his ragged voice turned her name into, but then ignored it. They were alive. “What happened? Wh-”   
   
All at once he heard Apone’s voice in his head, mad as hell after some sack of shit lieutenant had all but forgotten about the squad in his quest to get medical attention. _“See to your men. Look after thine own ass later.”_  
  
  
Hicks blinked back pain at the loss of his mentor, and the others. He only had one “man” left to see too.  
   
“Bishop?” he asked, trying to look for the synthetic without pulling his injuries more than necessary.  
   
“He’s there. Let me help.” Ripley carefully eased him into a sitting position so he could see past her and Newt to the final occupied chamber. It was a hell of a sight, and one he imagined would have unnerved him if he hadn’t seen it before. Well almost seen it before; he hadn’t expected Bishop to be missing the bottom half of his body. Ripley’s voice was hesitant, as she explained. “He told us to put him in that casing in the chamber. Said it would start the repair process?”  
   
Hicks nodded as he studied the synthetic resting beneath the airtight casing, answering her unspoken question.  
   
“Yeah, that rig’s got some kind of nanite repair bots or something. I’m not up on the tech, but if he told you what to do, it should be what’s needed.” He shrugged painfully. “Long as his cognitive processes were still functioning, he should be fine eventually.”  
   
‘Least he hoped so. He’d never seen a synthetic torn completely in two after all. He’d never have thought the android would survive something like that, but damned if he’d say so in front of the kid. Speaking of, he realized, Newt was starting to shiver.  
   
“You cold, honey?” he asked, more than a little concerned. That was one of the dangers of hypersleep, he knew all too well: that period of cold after actually waking up. Hell, if there was one thing that washed rookies out of training, it was hypersleep turning into hypothermia. Some people just couldn’t get their body temperature back up. He did not want to see that happen here, not when they’d been so painfully lucky to have survived this long. “Help me up, Ripley. We’ve got to get her warm.”  
   
Ripley eased him to a standing position, and then Ripley picked Newt up and carried her to one of the lockers Hicks pointed out.  Once there, he punched in a code to open it and pulled out a pair of shorts and socks for the little one to pull on.  The socks came up almost to her knees, which had him cracking a smile. He had to pull the drawstring on the shorts as tight as it would go and roll the waistline a couple dozen times, but even then they were going to sag on the tiny frame. He shrugged over Newt’s head at Ripley; it was the best they could do. Ripley reached in after him for a blanket and wrapped that around Newt as well. Only after the little girl was curled up at the mess table did the pair of adults turn to their own care. Loathe though he was to take it, Hicks accepted Ripley’s help to get into a pair of fatigues, socks, and boots.  
   
“Might as well wait on the shirt yet,” Ripley said softly. “I’ll need to check your bandages.” Hicks nodded, and allowed her to wrap another blanket around his shoulders.  
   
“Get yourself dressed, Ellen. I’ll get us some food going.”  He smiled one last time and then turned away to try to finagle some compliance from the _Sulaco’s_ half assed food processor. The damn thing required more seduction than half the women Hudson ever slept with. It was hard enough getting it to function properly on a normal day, but one-handed and with only half his normal eyesight? Yeah, it was going to be a challenge. His attention focused on acquiring coffee and cocoa for Newt without losing the blanket around his shoulders, he only barely heard Ripley call out to him as she passed the little galley kitchen.  
   
“I’m going to check our course. See how far we are to home. Shouldn’t be too long now.”  He nodded absently and punched in another command to the food processor. Finally the stubborn thing sputtered and poured out steaming hot drinks for the three of them. He left the pair of coffees for the moment and picked up the hot chocolate with his free hand.  
   
“Here you go, Newt. Should get you warmed up.” The little girl smiled at him gratefully, sipping carefully so as not to burn her mouth. He caught himself brushing his hand over her hair, and shook his head in self reproach. So much for the padlock on his heart he worked so hard to advertise; a certain little blonde had wormed her way in pretty easily. Hicks figured Apone would have laughed his ass off if he’d been around to see it. Hicks retrieved his coffee and checked the processor’s progress on the actual meal he’d programmed in. “Only a little while longer ‘till breakfast,” he told his quiet little companion. “You hungry?”  
  
  
“Affirmative.” The little girl’s answer had him grinning again, and he forced himself to keep that smile on his face as he lowered himself carefully to the bench beside her, despite the pain that was getting worse the longer he was awake and moving. The cold had kept some of the burning ache at bay, or so he guessed, but now it was returning with a vengeance. He hoped Ripley’d check back in soon. He wasn’t sure how much of meal he could even keep down with the pain making him as nauseated as it was.   
   
“We’re on course and due in to the main station in a few hours,” she called as she entered the room, as if the thought had summoned her. She crossed to take the second cup of coffee with a grateful sigh, all but inhaling the hot caffeine as he watched. Once she’d downed the cup, she moved over to eye him critically. “The remote piloting is engaged. I can take a look at the bandages now.”  
   
Hicks nodded wearily and then glanced over at Newt.  
   
“Will you be alright out here, honey? We’ll just be right over in the infirmary. We’ll leave the door open and be able to hear you if you need anything, alright?”  
   
She looked up to give him one of those piercing looks that only a child can really manage. Then she gave a little salute and a nod and turned back to her mug of cocoa. Ripley watched them both with that fathomless smile and then helped Hicks to his feet.  She kept her hand on his arm as they walked the short distance across the room to the infirmary door. She left it open, as he’d promised to Newt, and then helped him to climb carefully up the single stepstool and then onto the exam table.  
   
“Standard lay out in here,” she murmured absently as she looked around the room and in the cabinets. She pulled out bandages, burn cream, a syringe, and a few vials of the good stuff, or at least what Hicks was hoping was the good stuff. She held up the vial for him to see the label. “You want this before or after we switch those?”  
   
He knew she was really asking how bad he was hurting, but knew better than to think he’d answer that question honestly. He was a Marine after all. He lifted the corner of his lips in a pained grin and shrugged. She shook her head at him and began to load the syringe.  
   
“Wait.” At the word, she looked at him just a little confused. “Cut the dose in half. We’ll have to debrief just as soon as we dock. I need to stay sharp.”  
   
“Just enough to take the edge off then.” She filled the syringe to the correct line and then tapped it to remove any air bubbles. “This may hurt a little…”  Ripley laughed sheepishly as she caught the affronted look on her patient’s face at the thought that one little stick of a needle might hurt worse than all the other shit they’d both been through recently. “Never mind then. Just hold still.”  
   
The needle slid into his arm easily, and Hicks was glad to see she’d found the vein with little trouble.  She depressed the plunger, and he felt the pressure and then the rush of chill creep up his arm as the drugs began to spread through his system. The pair waited a few minutes in silence for the meds to kick in. When he felt his muscles begin to relax softly and the pain start to fade, Hicks nodded to Ripley.  She reached for a pair of scissors on the table nearby and then began to carefully cut and unwind the bandages around his arm and chest, doing her best not to pull too hard.  
   
“Bishop did a good job,” she said absently. “None of the bandages seem to be sticking to the wounds. Shouldn’t take too much longer to get them off.” She kept at it, pausing as she unwound to cut here and there to make her job easier. Hicks managed not to flinch more than once or twice, and then more from the feel of cold metal sliding across his skin than from any pain due to her careful ministrations. The last of the gauze finally fell away, and Ripley stepped even closer as she surveyed the damage.  
   
Hicks found to his shame that he couldn’t quite stand to look. He’d survived multiple wounds in the past, but those had always been tended to fairly quickly. With medical technology being what it was, he didn’t have much in the way of visible scars. Hardly anyone did these days. With the amount of time he’d waited for major treatment so far though? He frowned a little at the thought of his pitiable vanity. Wasn’t like it would matter anyway.  
   
Ripley hadn’t caught his moment of self pity, or so he hoped. She’d simply begun poking gently at his skin, probing the edges of the wounds he guessed. After a few moments of prodding, which _did_ actually hurt and more than a bit not that he showed it, she stepped back and cocked her head.  
   
“They’re actually not that bad.” He blinked his free eye at her in surprise. Not that bad? They’d hurt like a son of a bitch when they happened! She shrugged at him. “Burns hurt. The nerves are under assault, but they still might not be as damaged as we expected.”  
   
She traced her fingers thoughtfully just outside the areas of the burns themselves and Hicks trembled despite himself. Ripley went on.  
   
“I think we got lucky: at least on these here. We got the armor off before the acid could get too deep. It’s just surface burns. 2nd degree sure, but no worse than that.”  
   
“Think it’ll scar?” Hicks cringed as he heard himself ask, but Ripley didn’t seem to notice.  
   
“It might. It won’t be too bad though. These won’t show if you wear a shirt.” She tried to smile at him, apparently not as calm as she’d been trying to make him believe. He mustered up a smile of his own.  
   
“Well, I’ll just have to be careful who sees me without one, then.” He attempted a wink and managed to startle a laugh out of her. They both sobered quickly though. “What about this?” he asked, touching the edge of the bandage on his face gingerly.  
   
“I’m not sure. I didn’t think there was any damage to your eye, but eyes injuries are going to be out of my ability to care for. I thought I’d leave them bandaged until we can get you to the medical personnel?” Her question was hesitant, and he nodded carefully. It was for the best. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle the pain dealing with his eye might cause. He was even less sure that he’d want the strong woman to see him fall apart.  
   
“Makes sense. We’ll just deal with the surface burns for now then,” he said, forcing the calm back into his voice. Ripley nodded and turned to dig through the cabinets and counter drawers until she found the burn cream. Hicks grimaced a little; it was not going to be pleasant to have that stuff slathered on. Thank god the drugs seemed to be working at least a little: the burning had receded to more of a dull ache. Still not fun, but better than it had been by far.  
   
Ripley opened the package and returned to his side with another small packet of gauze. She seemed to contemplate for a moment.  
   
“Can you lean back a little for me? I think I’m going to squeeze this out directly on the burns and then spread it best I can. Hopefully that’ll hurt less.”  
   
She proceeded to do as she’d said, and Hicks swallowed a curse at just how fucking cold the gel was. Couldn’t the damn medical science people figure out a way to make it a little less arctic? Ripley seemed focused on her self-appointed task, but he swore he saw a smirk creeping up as she slathered more of the crap over his chest and arm. It didn’t hurt though, he realized with a sudden burst of surprise. The drug must have been working better than he’d expected. Not that he was numbed to sensation exactly; there wasn’t too much pain even from the wounds over his eye, but his skin was definitely buzzing under Ripley’s fingertips.  
   
He shifted a bit, trying to find a slightly _less_ comfortable seat, grateful as hell that he was wearing his BDUs instead of just his military issued boxers. He was starting to have a bit more of a reaction to her touch than was strictly appropriate.  
   
She’d finished with the gel finally, but she hadn’t moved her hands off of him. Hicks swallowed and risked a glance up at Ripley. She was looking down at her hands on his skin, and she swallowed in an unintentional echo of his movement. She flicked her gaze up to his, and Hicks licked his lips at the look in her eyes, dilated with what he hoped like hell was desire and not something else, some reaction to his pain.  
   
Then the pair of them all but lunged forward, lips meeting in a desperate kiss. He reached to grip her hip with his left and tangled his right in her dark curls, drawing her as close as he could without making his injuries worse. She was careful to avoid those, her hands barely ghosting over the burns until she could reach around to grip his back and shoulders.  
   
Lips and tongues and teeth all but battled for dominance, and Hicks had a faint thought that this was a hell of a lot more fun without having to bend himself in half. Why the hell had he been fooling around with shorter women anyway? The long line of Ripley pressed against the full height of him was hot as hell, and the strength in her body did nothing to distract from the fact that she was undeniably female. He set his mouth to the length of her throat, and slid his right hand down to cup one of those decidedly feminine parts of her body. She arced back as his thumb brushed against her nipple through the thin T-shirt she wore.  
   
His mind tried to pull him back, tried to remind him that this heat between them was likely just a reaction to shit they’d been through, like the body reminding them that they were alive complete with all moving parts in good working order.  The rest of him pushed that knowledge away; fuck if he could make it matter with his Ripley, his _Ellen_ , his mind said fiercely, nipping at his jaw and pulling him closer with a need that matched his own. He slid forward to the very edge of the bed, trying to get as close to her as he could. It wasn’t close enough, not even when she made good use of his new position to grind herself against the erection his BDUs were now doing absolutely nothing to hide. He groaned into her mouth at the contact, and his hand slid from her hip to grip her ass and grind her even closer. She muttered his name under her breath as her hands streaked down to stroke him through fabric and then fumble with the fastening.  
   
“Fuck…” he snarled, not even bothering with her zipper and just shoving his hand down the back of her pants to grip the bare skin of her ass. Everything in him urged him to hurry, _hurry,_ to touch her, taste her, to fucking slide in her now, damn it! Ripley seemed just as impatient, and she gotten the first button undone. Nothing and no one was going to stop them from reaching each other.  
   
A single terrified shriek ripped through the silence that had covered the rest of the ship.  
   
Nothing except that.


	3. Newt Interlude I

_Meanwhile…_  
   
Newt stayed where Hicks had placed her on the table, sipping her hot chocolate quietly, taking in everything around her. She took another sip of her chocolate, and then carefully set it down on the table. She unwrapped the blanket around her, fumbling only slightly as she untangled herself and then slipped softly to the floor. Nobody’d said she had to stay right there, she reasoned, just asked if she’d be OK out here.  
   
She was OK, but she still needed, wanted, to check and make sure Hicks and Ripley were OK, too. She crept silently across the metal grating of the floor toward the medbay, the massive socks making it that much easier to keep quiet. She had to stop once or twice to hitch the socks up higher so she didn’t trip on the toes, but other than that, nothing got in her way.  
   
She reached the door and peeked around it carefully. Ripley was cutting away the white bandages on Hicks a little at a time. Newt bit her lip as the wounds became visible; it looked like it hurt. She didn’t want him to hurt. She backed away from the door carefully, not wanting him to see her watching. Ripley would make it better, Newt decided. He’d be alright with Ripley there.  
   
That sorted in her mind, she decided to explore a little. Newt needed to know where she was if anything happened. She didn’t want to think about what ‘anything’ could be just yet, but she knew first hand that anything _could_ happen. She wandered back over to take another sip of chocolate from her cup on the table, using the comforting taste to chase away the bad thoughts.  
   
Back to exploring. There was a grate over there in the floor she could reach if she had to; part of it wasn’t quite screwed down. By the hypersleep beds, there was a locker open she could probably fit in, though she’d have to be careful not to get locked in and stuck there. It wouldn’t be safe if she couldn’t get out. Over by the guns on the wall, there was tiny space between two piles of crates she just knew she could crawl into. She wasn’t sure she would, though; the crates could move if she wasn’t careful.  She might get squashed. And she knew she wasn’t supposed to play near the guns.  
   
“Don’t touch, honey. Dangerous,” she whispered to herself, Hicks’s voice saying the words with her in her head, and then backed away from that wall, keeping her hands behind her back.  
   
She continued this way around the mess and the cargo bay, keeping her eyes and ears open for any sign that her grownups might be coming back out.  There were lots of hiding places; just knowing that made her feel safer, even with the grownups in the other room. They were over there, after all, not right here with her. She had to be prepared.  
   
There were some food packages in a cupboard under the food processor Hicks was playing with. They were ready to eat too, or at least they looked like the ones her Mommy had let her make by herself back at home. They’d be good if breakfast didn’t work. She’d have to tell Hicks they were right here just in case. She didn’t think he liked the processor very much.  
   
She went back to take another sip of her coco. Then she frowned. She needed to potty. Another short search later and some aggravating fumbling with the too-big shorts, she’d taken care of that problem. She had to drag a stool from another room so she could wash her hands too, but she felt better after that. She’d remembered to wash her hands like Mommy always told her. She’d done that like she was supposed to. Mommy’d be proud of her. She would.  
   
The thought made Newt sniffle, and she all but ran back to the table for another drink of her chocolate. She wasn’t going to cry. Big girls didn’t cry, and anyway, Mommy wasn’t here to wipe her tears away. Ripley and Hicks might, but she didn’t want to go find them for that. She was brave. They’d said so. Brave little girls especially didn’t cry.  
   
She set her cup on the floor and the reached up and drug the blanket off of the table. She crawled part of the way underneath the table and then curled up in the blanket, clutching her cup to her even after it was empty. She _wasn’t_ crying. She wasn’t.  
   
A faint sound suddenly distracted her from her tears. Something was moving over by the beds. She crawled to the edge of the table and tried to see under the bench. Something metal flashed by the corner of the room, and a sudden clicking sound almost like footsteps began to come closer and closer. She backed completely under the table again, and lifted the blanket over her head. It couldn’t see her. She wasn’t there.  
   
The metallic clatter reached the table and then there was a faint whirring and creaking sound. Then silence.  
   
Cautiously, she opened her eyes, then slowly pulled the blanket back to peek out. Then she screamed.


	4. Chapter 2

The sound of Newt’s terror poured over the pair of them like a cold shower, and Ripley couldn’t stop the horrified shout of Newt’s name from pulling past her lips. She took off across the bay toward their charge, Hicks right behind her, his wounds slowing his reaction by just a second or two. Ripley was horrified to realize neither of them were armed; the thought of weaponry had been forgotten in the sheer relief to be waking up alive and mostly whole. If another one of those fucking things was in here? What if it had her little girl? Ripley spun around the row of lockers and stumbled to a shocked halt as the sight that awaited her by the mess tables. Hicks caught himself before he slammed into her, and both of them stared.  
   
Curled up under the table where they’d left her and still sitting safe and sound beside her cup of cocoa was Newt with her hands clapped tightly to her mouth and a shamed and fearful expression on her face. Beside the table she hid beneath, and looking more sheepish than shamed was Bishop, awake and aware, and torso somehow settled on some kind of exoskeletal lower body. Hicks turned away to lean against the lockers, and Ripley hurried forward to Newt, brushing a hand over her face and arms, assuring herself that the girl was truly unharmed.  
   
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle any of you.” Bishop’s voice was just slightly apologetic, but it was more emotion than Ripley would have expected a synthetic to express out loud. She lifted Newt into her arms and nodded her acceptance of her apology.  
   
“It’s alright. It’s alright,” she breathed into Newt’s hair, eyes closed tightly to keep the child or Bishop from seeing how deeply they’d frightened her. “It’s alright, now.” Composed, she opened them again and turned to Bishop. “You just surprised us. I didn’t think you’d be online so soon.”   
   
“Most of the repairs were completed during hypersleep. Once I awoke, it was merely a matter of bringing the exoskeleton online.”   
   
“You didn’t need any help?” Hicks asked from his corner, and Bishop turned slightly to take in all three humans in his gaze. His face was blank, as he answered.  
   
“I could complete the repairs on my own. The system is designed for that.  You were otherwise occupied.”  
   
There was a slightly embarrassed cough at that comment, and Hicks came up behind her. Ripley had a brief moment of panic, hoping he’d managed to fasten his pants before Newt saw. That was followed by a moment of shame as she buried her face into Newt’s hair. They’d gotten too damned caught up in each other; until Newt had screamed, Ripley hadn’t thought of her. She’d had other things on her mind. Hicks brushed a hand across Ripley’s back and then passed her, heading to the food processor on the wall. He called back over his shoulder to the trio.  
   
“Sorry ‘bout that Bishop. You need any more help now?”  
   
“Not at this time, no.”  
   
Hicks nodded back at him, and then continued to mess with the buttons on the wall.  
   
“This is just about done…” He trailed of, and then suddenly slammed his good hand flat against a corner of the processor. At the sound of the slam and a loud ‘bing’ that followed immediately after, both Ripley and Newt jumped and let out startled squeaks. Hicks blinked over at them and then pulled the processor’s door open sheepishly. “Sorry ‘bout that,” he said again. “The door tends to stick some, and you have to…”  
   
He trailed off again and shrugged, and Ripley just exchanged an annoyed look with the little girl in her arms. If it wasn’t one man set to give them a heart attack, it was clearly the other.  Hicks rubbed his right had over the back of his neck, clearly still a little sheepish, and then began pulling out a few trays and setting them on the rack below the processor.  
   
“We’ve got your basic eggs and bacon. Come and get it,” Hicks said, nodding to Newt and Ripley to join him. “Bishop, you want any of this?”  
   
The synthetic shook his head and remained where he stood by the mess table.  
   
“No. Thank you. I will be unable to process any food or liquid until my lower body is completely repaired. The nanites will suffice for now.”  
   
Hicks frowned a little, his eyes concerned, but then he nodded. Ripley busied herself with doling out breakfast for Newt. It was hard to consider that Hicks likely saw Bishop as an actual friend. The synthetic had definitely earned his place as far as Ripley was concerned, but it still didn’t mean she was overly fond of artificial people as a whole. And even after Bishop’s rescue of her and Newt, she wasn’t sure she could picture him as a friend. He might have been programmed to keep humans from harm, but it didn’t mean he could actually care for them. After all, he didn’t exactly feel emotion did he? Or at least not to the extent that humans did. It was hard to have anything like a friendship that way. Or at least she’d always thought so. Watching Hicks and Bishop have the same kind of silent conversations she’d had with her crew once upon a time was challenging that assumption. She wasn’t sure she liked it.  
   
“Can I have another piece of bacon?” Newt’s tentative voice broke into her thoughts, and Ripley smiled down at her.  
   
“Of course.” She dished out the extra piece and then quickly fixed a plate for herself before carrying both to the table. “Hicks, do you need help?” she asked softly, noticing belatedly that the Marine didn’t seem to be getting anything for himself.  
   
“Not up for food yet. I’ll give the meds just a little longer. See if it settles my stomach.” He grabbed another cup of coffee instead and set it on the table. “Be back in a sec.”  
   
He strode off after ruffling Newt’s hair, the only clue to his discomfort in the way he held his left arm carefully to his chest. Ripley forced herself to focus on her plate, eating the imitation bacon and eggs mechanically. It could definitely have used some salt and pepper, she thought absently. She would have thought processed food would taste better after the 50 years she’d been gone, but apparently not. The sound of Hicks’ footsteps reappeared behind her and then the tall man sank down at the table beside her. Ripley turned to offer him his mug of coffee and then stared. Slung across his right shoulder was one of the rifles.  
  
  
“You think that’s necessary?” she asked, more than a little worried. Granted, she’d regretted the fact that she was unarmed when Newt had screamed, but they’d be at the station before too long. What threat was he expecting anyway?  He shrugged and pulled a lighter and a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, lighting one and taking a long drag before he answered.  
   
“Felt a little naked without it.”  
   
Ripley couldn’t help it: she snorted out half a laugh before covering it with a cough.  
   
“Without the weapon, but not without the shirt?” she asked pointedly. He just smirked at her and took another drag of his cigarette.  
   
“Here I was thinking you hadn’t noticed,” he said quietly, the hint of mischief on what was visible of his face getting easier to see.  
   
“That you didn’t have a shirt? It had slipped my mind. The gun was more obvious.” They exchanged a quick wicked grin, and Ripley wondered at just how easy it was to flirt with this man. He just… well he wasn’t her type. At all. She’d always preferred older, intellectual types like her professor of an ex-husband, who liked an intelligent woman to take out to museums and opera. There was just something she liked about a man with a bit of class. Not that she ran in those circles often, but when she’d had the chance? Absolutely. But really, those kinds of men would be the kind to talk about the political ramifications of women in the military. Not the kind of men who actually _were_ in the military.  
   
She picked at her food, somehow annoyed with herself for the thoughts. Hicks must have caught something of her irritation in her expression, and he raised an eyebrow at her, silently asking if anything was wrong. She shook her head and just took another drink of her coffee in an attempt to hide her face from him. He read her too damned easily.  
   
And there in lay the problem she thought. Intellectual or no, he read her better than any other man she’d ever known. And sure, he was definitely younger than her, a little younger than she was all that comfortable with frankly, but he felt like an equal. He clearly respected her as such too, and damned if she could figure out why that was so attractive. It wasn’t just respect either; he somehow made her feel cherished. All but beat to hell, he’d managed to finagle a decent meal for Ripley and Newt and taken the time to make sure they ate their fill and had as much as they wanted to drink. He didn’t have to cater to either of them, Ripley knew, but he had. Even in the middle of the shit they’d been through, he’d taken the time to treat both of them well. And as Ripley’d seen all too clearly on the faces of some of the others in the squad, neither the outsider consultant or the orphaned child had been exactly welcomed in their midst. She’d _never_ felt that from Hicks, though.  
   
She shook her head at herself and took another long draught of coffee. The hell with it, she thought. Even if it was only due to the danger they’d been in or the fact that he was the only surviving man around at all, she was drawn to him. Would likely remain drawn to him if they were allowed to stay even remotely near each other once the fallout from the disastrous mission actually hit. At the very least, she mused, tossing Hicks a shy smile as she set down her cup, the man could kiss like none other. He’d be worth keeping around for that reason alone. Plus, hadn’t her old friend Marcie once told her that there were benefits to a military man? Something about focus and stamina, Ripley thought it was. It might be worth finding out first hand. If he stayed interested anyway. There wasn’t exactly a guarantee of that. The adrenaline reaction and attraction might easily wear off on his end. She certainly hoped it didn’t.  
   
She looked down at what was left of the egg mess on her plate and decided she just wasn’t up to attempting any more of it. She stood and was reaching to place all of her dishes together when a sudden hard thud echoed through the ship and something sent all of them shaking and careening about for a second.  
   
Ripley managed not to fall by grabbing onto the table, but Bishop wasn’t quite so lucky. Hicks had reached for Newt and somehow kept the pair of them upright, though Ripley wasn’t sure how.  
   
“What in the hell…” Ripley trailed off as the unmistakable sound of the airlock being opened and a thunder of running booted feet had them all turning to stare in shock. There was no way they’d reached the station yet. Who the hell were these people?  
   
“Scan says they’re in the mess. Get them covered now! Pilot, get us on course, ASAP. We’ve wasted too much time already.” A voice shouted orders that rang down the hall toward them, and in one quick motion, Hicks moved himself between Ripley and Newt and whoever it was that was running toward them. He held the weapon easily, and Ripley wondered just how much pain he was putting himself through to hide his weakness that way. She pulled Newt close, turning so the little girl was just a touch behind her, and she nodded approval as she noticed Bishop moving to flank Newt’s far side.  
   
Then men and women stormed into the mess to surround the ragged little quartet. Ripley guessed they were likely to be another squad of Marines just judging from the now familiar weaponry and BDUs, but why they’d boarded the _Sulaco_ , she didn’t know. She took her cue from Hicks and just kept silent and tried not to tremble under the weight of all the weapons pointed at her and the others. These were just people, armed yes, but just people, she reminded herself. She’d faced down a fucking xenomorph queen; she could handle a few little soldiers.  
   
After a moment of stand off, a pair of older men strode in with what looked to be a civilian between them. The shorter of the two men stepped forward to survey the 4 captives starting with Bishop and making his way to Hicks. If there was any approval at the one surviving Marine’s protective stance, Ripley didn’t see it. The officer in charge, or so Ripley guessed he must be, clasped his hands behind him and then spoke.  
   
“Stand down, soldier.”  
   
“With all due respect, sir, that ain’t gonna happen.” Ripley shivered a little at the sound of the steel in Hicks’s voice. She hoped the stranger didn’t do anything stupid; she’d seen first hand just how immovable Hicks could be when he took that tone. “Not until your squad lowers their weapons.”  
   
The older man and Hicks stared at each other silently for another moment, the male posturing practically filling the air with testosterone. Then the stranger let out a rough bark of laughter and waved to the other soldiers.  
   
“Stand down, men. Don’t want Hicks to get himself a twitchy trigger finger.” Almost as one, though clearly confused about it, the squad lowered their weapons. Hicks relaxed a hair and finally let his weapon fall back to hang by the shoulder strap. Then the stranger strode forward to clasp Hicks’s hand warmly. “How you been? Ain’t seen you in a dog’s age.”  
   
Ripley eased out from behind her protector just enough to see his face beneath the bandages. He was smiling a little, just a little, but it was enough to let her breath a bit easier.  
   
“Captain Connor. It’s good to see you, but why the hell are you all here?” Before Connor could respond, the scientist type broke in, agitated about something or so Ripley guessed from the way the woman was almost twitching.  
   
“That is strictly classified, need to know only.” Ripley felt her hackles rise at the woman’s dismissive attitude, and Ripley’s ire only continued to grow as she went on. “Captain, I want these three taken into custody on the double. We don’t have time for chitchat. I want the hold searched and-”  
   
“Look, if you’re here about the xenomorph, then we damned well need to know.” Ripley didn’t bother to hide her aggravation with the annoying little shrew. Who the hell did she think she was anyway? Hicks was tensing up again, and Ripley noted his hand drifting back toward his weapon. The company woman didn’t seem to notice the imminent threat though, and if anything Ripley’s opinion of her dropped even lower.  
  
  
“Look, Miss Ripley, I assume? You’re in hot water here as it is. I’d suggest you cooperate now before even more charges are pressed against you.”  
   
Hicks broke in before Ripley reached the end of her temper and did something stupid like lunge at the bitch.  
   
“What charges? Damn it, Captain, what the hell’s going on? We were lucky to even survive that fucking place. What could we have possibly done to have charges brought?”  
   
The strange woman sneered.  
   
“What you’re pulling out the ‘oh so dangerous alien’ tripe like her, now? As if that song and dance is going to work. We have records of the compound being destroyed, and someone is going to answer that.” She waved Hicks and Ripley away as if they were suddenly beneath her. “You know what? I’m not going to waste time with a grunt. Where are Carter Burke and Lieutenant Gorman? I want to speak to the men in charge.”  
   
There was a moment of painful silence as Ripley and the others realized that the newcomers had no idea what was really going on. Clearly the woman had read through Ripley’s file and thought it to be nothing more than a work of fiction. If she already thought Ripley’s report was full of shit, and if the only way anyone had known about the colony destruction due to some sensor going off back home… Well, then those around them could believe just about anything. And that meant it would be that much harder to convince everyone that the colony itself was beyond dangerous.  
   
“Well, where are they already?” she demanded.  
   
“They’re dead. They’re all dead.” Everyone turned to look at the synthetic who’d spoke. Bishop was solemn, and somehow his lack of overt reaction made his statement that much more poignant. “I’m sorry to inform you, but the four of us are the only survivors, both from the colony and the team sent to investigate.”  
   
“But... no… That’s just… You’re lying!”  The woman was absolutely livid and shaking, but Bishop remained calm as only a synthetic could.  
   
“I have no reason to lie.” He half-shrugged to Ripley and his fellow survivors. “There is no one else.”  
   
That was apparently more than the woman could take, and she lunged at Bishop, lashing out at Ripley and Newt as she passed. Connor and one of his Marines grabbed her arms and pulled her back. She just kept screaming at the group of survivors, and Ripley shivered at the sheer hate in her voice.  
   
“Fuck you all! That’s not true. Damn it, that’s not true! Now you bring me Carter, you son of a bitch! What have you done with him?” She was crying hysterically now, flat out sobbing as she fought the hands on her arms. “What have you done with him? He’s not dead… He can’t be dead…” She trailed off and suddenly went limp, her hysterics sapping her energy all at once. The soldier holding her looked more than a little panicked at the suddenly lifeless woman in his arms, and Ripley shook her head a little in commiseration.  
   
“Who was he to you?” she asked softly, more out of curiosity than true compassion.  
   
“My fiancé.” She met Ripley’s eyes and the emptiness there set Ripley shaking. “We were supposed to get married in a few months. He just had to go on this stupid business trip…”  
   
She trailed off, and Ripley found there wasn’t much she could say.  
   
“I am truly sorry for your loss. There wasn’t anything we could do.” That was true enough, Ripley thought, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice and expression at the thought of Burke’s final moments: the ones after he’d locked the rest of them out of the assumed safety of the medical bay. It was odd to see anyone mourning the bastard. _She_ had no idea of the way he’d died though, and Ripley didn’t see how it would do any good to tell her right at that moment. She’d have to find out the basics eventually, whenever she calmed down enough to demand a debrief from Ripley and Hicks, but for now, Ripley thought she’d just let the other woman have a moment to mourn the man she’d apparently thought her fiancé to be.  
   
After a moment, the woman straightened, her eyes still vague but anger and an ugly hate creeping into her expression.  
   
“You’ll pay for his death. All of you. I’ll make sure of it.”


	5. Chapter 3

There was very little menace to the woman’s voice, but the sheer finality of her words had Hicks’s guard back up immediately. Ripley instinctively moved behind him again to shield the little girl she’d protected so long. He hefted the rifle, and this time he decided, not even the sound of other weapons cocking around them or Connor’s sharp order to lower would make him move. Not until those he cared for were out of the bitch’s line of fire. The room was still for a long tense moment. Then the other stranger seemed to finally become aware of the atmosphere in the room, stalking forward to stand between the woman and Hicks’s weapon. He shot the still shaking woman a glare before she could speak, and to Hicks’s surprise, she seemed to draw further in on herself, finally turning away from the objects of her rage.  
   
“Head back and get yourself under control, Gaines. We’ll deal with the prisoners and the ship and then report back on the station.” She didn’t move and he continued. “That wasn’t a request. You’re going to make my job harder, and I do _not_ need that shit.”  
   
After one finally malevolent look at the quartet of survivors, the woman, Gaines, turned and stalked off back toward the airlock and whatever ship they’d come in  
   
Only then did the other man turn to face Hicks, seemingly unconcerned by the weapon that was now leveled at him. That might have been due to the sheer size of him, Hicks thought privately. Neither Hicks nor Connor were short by any means, but damned if the bastard wasn’t taller than them both and every bit as muscled as most civilians thought the stereotypical Marine _should_ be. Hicks didn’t doubt he was expected to be thoroughly intimidated. That was just too bad, he thought grimly. He’d apparently run out of “intimidated” after facing down an infestation of xenomorphs. Hicks gave the man credit though: it was one hell of an attempt.  
   
If the stranger was surprised that Hicks didn’t back down, he gave no sign of it. He only surveyed the armed Marine, and the civilians and android behind them, with an almost curious glint to his glare. He turned and raised an eyebrow at Connor who only nodded once, though he seemed reluctant to do so.  
   
“She’s gone. I’d suggest you stand down. Now.” At the taller man’s order, Hicks finally lowered his weapon, though the rest of his posture didn’t change. Yes, the other man outranked him, but they were going to have to work for his cooperation. Especially in the wake of the words ‘custody’ and ‘charges.’  The stranger’s eyebrow arched again, and he flashed an amused smirk for a brief second. Then he spoke. “Corporal Hicks, Warrant Officer Ripley. I’m Agent Mahonin, CID. My presence was… requested by Weyland-Yutani.”  
   
Hicks felt Ripley shuffle behind him, though from the military designation attached to her name (and how had he and his squad missed that tidbit of information anyway?) or from the news that Mahonin worked for the company, he wasn’t sure. He was a little too busy mulling over the info himself. He’d heard of Mahonin, though only vaguely. He wasn’t connected to Delta Company like Connor and Hicks’s teams had both been, but scuttlebutt still made the rounds. Most of it cast him in a decidedly less than favorable light, inferring he was nothing but a company lackey in a uniform, forcefully digging into any ‘investigation’ Weyland-Yutani directed him to no matter what the consequences for those under investigation. That was certainly not promising for the survivors.   
   
Not all of the gossip was negative, though, Hicks forcibly reminded himself. There was at least one instance that he could think of where Mahonin had publicly declared the company to be at fault in open court. That had been early on in his career though, and as Hicks knew, all too often a man’s loyalty could be bought for the right price. And Weyland-Yutani could certainly pay almost as much as anyone would want.  His hand twitched on his rifle again, and he had to force himself not to move any farther than that.  
   
“As Ms. Gaines probably made clear, you, and any other survivors we might have encountered here, are under investigation for willful destruction of company property and deliberate misinformation of military and company directive. Also,” and now his voice was almost apologetic, “it looks like a murder charge might be added to this list. Possibly only criminal negligence.”  
   
He shrugged almost absently at the painful bombshell he’d just dropped on the four.  
   
Hicks felt a small form shift between he and Ripley, and he reached back blindly to feel Newt’s tiny hand cling to his. He didn’t have to look to know that the girl had linked he and Ripley. It had to say something to know even the child felt they were a unit now, that their safety depended on each other. Granted, Hicks doubted a child would be drawn into this mess beyond a short taking of her statement, but fuck if he could be sure of that if Gaines continued to raise hell. She seemed like the type to hold a grudge with absolutely anyone within her line of sight. Hicks only hoped Mahonin might be a little more reasonable. Hicks decided to try for a gamble.  
   
“We’re innocent of all charges, and I think you know it.” He shrugged in a deliberate mimic of the other man’s earlier expression. “Ought to just debrief us and let us go. There’s one hell of a mess to clean up back on LV-426. You’re just wasting your time with us.”  
   
“We’ll see. In the mean time, we have our orders.” Mahonin turned and nodded to Connor. “Captain, take ‘em into custody. Me and the rest will search the ship and check the video records. See what evidence we’ve got to work with before they debrief.”  
   
He took a few steps and then called back over his shoulder.  
   
“And Connor, get them checked out in medical. No need for them to look like shit for the debrief. Private Hardison!” A slim and slightly gawky black Marine came at a run and stood at attention. “Look over the synthetic. We’ll have the techs give him a full diagnostic after the debriefs; I just need to know he’s fully functioning for now. Once you’re done you can get back to the tech stuff. I want the data on those computers ASAP.”  
   
He strode off with what Ferro had once called the “I’m too much of a Marine for the rest of you grunts” walk, leaving the young tech looking more than a little aggravated. He stood muttered to himself for a moment, but then he threw his hands in the air and turned back to shrug widely at Connor and then to survey the synthetic who’d be his assignment. Bishop stepped forward, the exoskeleton clanking on the floor of the ship as he did.  
   
“Well, let’s see what you did to yourself. Sir, we’ll be in Bay 6 if you need me. After that, I’ll get ‘back to the tech stuff.’” He rolled his eyes, and Hicks was almost comforted to see Connor pat the younger man on the back in support. At least Connor still seemed focused on his team; Hicks wondered if he could recall a little bit of that protective side for he and the girls.  
   
“Have fun with that, Hardison.” The young man led Bishop off into the ship, and Hicks had to force himself not to go after the synthetic. It might have made sense to get Bishop looked over, but it didn’t mean he liked the feeling of one of his people being separated from them. Connor rubbed and hand over his neck and then squared his shoulders and turned to his former soldier. “Hicks, I need that weapon.”  Hicks stiffened, and he began to argue but Connor cut him off before he could say a word. “Don’t make me get an escort, damn it. You heard him; you’re in our custody now. How comfortable that custody remains is up to you.”  
   
Hicks grimaced, but Connor stood his ground. After a moment Connor shook his head and shrugged, and Hicks suddenly had the feeling Connor was feeling damned near as helpless as Hicks was.  
   
“We’ll get this shit straightened out, Hicks. We’ve got to do this by the books until then.”  
   
Hicks stared for another long moment. Ripley reached forward and laid a hand on his arm, and he risked a glance behind him to reassure himself that she and Newt were still with him. Ripley gave him a nod, and he let out a slow shaky breath then reached over without breaking her gaze and offered his rifle to Connor.  
   
“Good man.” His old CO took it and passed it off to another soldier who waited at his side. “Alright Hicks, let’s get you all cleaned up.”  
   
Hicks gave him another long look, one promising silently that if they _didn’t_ get this shit straightened out, there was going to be hell to pay. For the first time in his memory, Connor was the one to look away. The older man rubbed the back of his neck, and then just shook his head and turned toward the medical bay, waving the little trio after him.  
   
The medic, a young woman with hair just slightly longer than regulation, smiled at the group as they approached the open door.  
   
“So these are my patients. I’m Keller.” She offered another smile as Newt tentatively peeked out from between Hicks and Ripley. “Hey there sweetie. Come on in. How about we get you checked out first, huh?”  
   
She reached for the little girl as Connor moved to close the door to give the trio some privacy. Both actions proved to be mistakes. Newt suddenly shrieked, scrambling away from the medic and running for the door, slamming her little hands against it. Connor and the medic both seemed frozen in shock at the sight and the sound of her frantic cries.  
   
“No no no no no! Don’t close it. No! Let us out! Don’t want to be here!” Hicks moved just a fraction of a second faster than Ripley, and his long strides had him at Newt’s side almost before she’d begun fighting the door. He scooped her up in his arms and held her as tight as he could, ignoring the sting of the wounds on his chest as she fought him instinctively.  
   
“Easy, honey. Easy. It’s OK. You’re safe. It’s OK.” She whimpered against his shoulder, still muttered over and over that the door needed to be opened. Hicks gave a pointed nod to Connor, who shifted around the trembling pair, or trio really as Ripley had joined them and had a hand on each of Newt and Hicks’s backs. Connor opened the door just enough that the crack was visible while still keeping the room relatively secluded. Newt’s frantic shaking eased a bit at that, and Hicks closed his eyes in pain as the situation finally made sense.  
   
“What the hell was that all about?” Hicks didn’t know if the medic had actually meant to speak out loud, but Keller’s sudden question served to break some of the tension.  
   
“She and Ripley were locked in the colony medbay with a pair of the parasites set loose.”  Hicks turned a little, managing to at least somewhat face all three of the other adults in the room. “I didn’t even think about her maybe having a problem with this. I should have.”  
   
“Neither did I,” Ripley murmured, her hand rubbing his back managing to soothe his self incrimination somewhat. “And you’d think I would have.”  
   
“How’d they end up locked in like that?” Connor asked quietly, and Hicks just shook his head.  
   
“Burke.”  He didn’t expand on the answer though from the tilt of his head Connor clearly wanted more of an explanation than that. He’d get one during the briefing, Hicks decided.  
   
“Well, the door’s open now. Think I could take a look, sweetie?” Keller had moved closer while Hicks and Connor spoke, but it was only her voice that reminded Newt of her presence. The little girl started shaking and trying frantically to burrow into Hicks’s chest to escape the reaching hands. “Or not…”  
   
“I’ll go first. OK, honey? We’ll let the doc get us all fixed up in turns,” Hicks said, his soft voice and coaxing manner causing Connor to raise an eyebrow. Newt was still shaking her head, but Ripley reached over and carefully retrieved the little girl from Hicks’s arms. “It’s gonna be fine. You and Ripley will be right here, waiting. That OK?”  
   
Newt peeked out at him from behind her hair, and finally nodded, though her lip still trembled a little in fear. Hicks managed a smile and brushed her cheek with his knuckles.  
   
“That’s my girl.”  
   
He turned away to find Connor and the medic eyeing him thoughtfully. The medic at least didn’t look like she was contemplating a mental hospital, which Hicks took to be a relatively good sign. She shook herself and nodded over to the exam table.  
   
“Well alright then. Hop up and let’s take a look at you, huh?”  After a quick nod to his girls as Ripley moved them to sit in one of the chairs against the wall, Hicks did as Keller instructed, wincing a little at the movement. Either the adrenaline from the unexpected guests was wearing off… or the drugs were. Both were possible. The young medic inspected the burns on his chest and arm briskly, her touch impersonal, and her face fairly expressionless while she worked. “Those seem in pretty good shape, actually. Whoever fixed you up did a good job.”  
   
“It was Bishop right after, then Ripley looked at them a while ago,” he offered, nodding in his companion’s direction. He wasn’t totally sure why he offered up the information other than maybe because Dietrich had always demanded a full accounting for any treatment received by any of her squad from anyone other than herself. She’d been a damned good medic, and pretty proprietary over her own people. He supposed he just expected Dietrich and this Keller had that in common.  Currently though, Keller barely seemed to have heard him. She was eyeing the bandages on his face and chewing her lip thoughtfully.  
   
“We’re going to have to take these off. I don’t want to give you any more pain meds though. I need to see your eye react properly, or as close as it can get after the dose you’ve already gotten.” She set her hands on her hips and stared him down. “Are you going to be OK while I mess with this? I need a real answer, now. _Not_ a Marine answer.”  
   
Hicks hid a grin at that rather pointed remark, and in their corner, Ripley half snorted before she smothered a chuckle. Hicks wondered if the medic had worked with civilians in the past to make such a distinction of Marine medical behaviors. Not that she was wrong, but still. It was almost amusing.  
   
“I’ll be fine if you don’t take too long.”  
   
She studied him for another moment and then shrugged and turned for a small pair of scissors and began to carefully cut away the bindings around his head, checking for any other head wounds he might not have mentioned and saving the larger patch of gauze across his eye for last.  
   
“OK I’m going to start removing this section. Keep your eye closed if you can. Hell, keep them both closed. I want to look at the superficial damage before we deal with the eye itself.”  
   
Hicks nodded and obliged her by closing his visible eye to match the one still closed behind its covering. Keller returned to her task, and this time Hicks could tell there was some definite damage there, as the gauze and cotton stuck to the wounds themselves. He hissed just a little, and felt Keller pat the side of his neck soothingly.  
   
“Hang in there, buddy. Almost done,” she muttered to him absently. Hicks was struck for a moment by a minor sense of déjà vu in that moment in the medical bay with a strong beautiful woman between his legs and tending to his hurts. Keller wasn’t as tall as Ripley though, and she didn’t smell like Ripley either. Nor was there that edge to their interactions. Keller’s hands were impersonal and business-like, each motion serving a purpose as she worked on her patient. No, Hicks thought slightly bemused, the two situations were nothing alike, and damned if he knew why. It certainly wasn’t like Keller wasn’t a looker: Hudson would have been hitting on her in a heartbeat, though Frost probably would have been the one to actually manage to talk her into bed with very little effort.  
   
Or maybe not so little effort, Hicks amended. Keller seemed to have a rather no nonsense attitude about her. She might just see right through both of them.  
   
Might have _seen_ through both of them, he reminded himself, and abruptly drew his attention back to the medical bay as Keller removed the final layer of bandage with a soft tug that pulled at his eyebrow. A faint light seemed to glow behind his eyelid, and privately he hoped it to be a good sign. Keller gave him no indication either way, just began to none-too-gently poke and prod at the side of his face and the bridge of his nose, all places were the sting warned him he’d caught another burn from the acid or the resulting vapor. He could be totally sure which: in the panic of the moment, either was a possibility, and it wasn’t like he had anything like a clear memory of it. He thought the vapor would likely be a better bet for his eventual recovery, though, and fuck if that didn’t make him almost certain he’d been hit by the acid. Judging from his recent luck alone, that seemed more likely.  
   
…though, now that he thought about it, surviving at all had been pretty much sheer luck. And Ripley and Newt had survived too, he reminded himself with a swell of gratitude that was nearly spiritual. Well, almost.  
   
“OK, open up your right eye for me now. Just the right.” Once again, Hicks did as he was told, and Keller nodded to herself after examining it a moment. “No blurred vision or pain in this one, right? Nothing you’d be worried about anyway?”  
   
“Nope. Seems fine.”  
   
“Yeah, that one looks it too.” She turned away and opened one of the drawers, pulling out a small penlight. “Alright, let’s look at the other. This will probably hurt, but it might be a good sign if it does.”  
   
Hesitantly and hating himself for that hesitance, especially in front of Connor and Ripley, Hicks slowly peeled the eye open, wincing at the sudden near blinding light. He did see light though, he reminded himself. One hurdle down. A fuzzy shape slipped between him and the overwhelming light, and then another smaller light was being flashed in and out of his line of vision in what was likely the most annoying way possible, or so he was sure.  
   
“Well, the pupil’s reacting, and I’m not seeing any major lacerations to the eye. There are some tiny acid burns across the eyelid, but it doesn’t seem like they burned through to the cornea or iris.” The fuzzy form and the light retreated, and Hicks blinked, his eye tearing up like mad as he did so. “It’s awfully red though. The report said something about a vapor?”  
   
Hicks nodded, and the form seemed to nod as well.  
   
“That could have caused a good bit of irritation. How’s your vision?”  
   
“Fuzzy as hell and almost cloudy, I guess. Not getting any real detail, just outlines and vague shapes.”  
   
“Cloudy huh? Like after swimming in that god awful pool at New Pendleton?” Her tone was joking, and he grinned a little at the sudden camaraderie.  
   
“Yeah, but imagine you were swimming in it for a week straight.”  
   
“Gotcha. Well, honestly, that might take a while to fade. I’ve got some solutions and drops we can put in it, but all in all, I’d say you made out like a bandit.” She patted his uninjured arm and then turned away, gathering up the bits of gauze and bandages and tossing them in the trash. She came back with something in her hands. “You can open up the other eye now, by the way. You did good keeping it closed that long for me.”  
   
Hicks did so gratefully, having been more than a little uncomfortable trying to force clarity to his hindered sight. It was awkward trying to see out of both with his left so faded and fuzzy, and he wondered if he’d need to try to get a patch or something until the irritation eased. He’d been having an easier time functioning with just the one. He shook his head and shrugged to himself. He’d adapt; he didn’t have a choice.  
   
Keller seemed to be all but waiting for him to make that mental resolution, because as soon as he’d settled his shoulders again, she stepped forward with what he could now see was another container of the salve Ripley had used on his chest and arm.  
   
“We’ll want to leave the burns open to the air, at least for now. Once we arrive at the station, we’ll see if there’s a specialist to check the wounds and see if we can cover them for you. And the drops should help with the fuzziness, like I said. We’ll just have to see. Eye injuries are a tricky thing. Definitely can’t be too careful.”  
   
She dusted off her hands as if pleased with a job well done and then waved him off of the table.  
   
“OK ladies, who’s up?”


	6. Chapter 4

After a brief conversation between Ripley and the little girl in her arms, Newt finally agreed to get checked out, though only with the promise of Hicks and Ripley both standing close at hand and ready to catch the door if it suddenly decided to close on its own. She was given a clean bill of health, though Keller commented on her borderline malnutrition just as Dietrich had done. Ripley hoped it was a good sign: either both the women were competent or neither were. The second option wasn’t one Ripley wanted to end up being a possibility considering her… well whatever the hell Hicks was to her, was now under Keller’s care.  And that was a bit concerning considering that if Ripley remembered correctly, the Marines didn’t even technically have fully trained medics.  
   
‘Course her prior military experience was nearly 60 years prior. Damned if she could be sure things had stayed all that similar. Bureaucratic red tape certainly had, but she wasn’t betting too much on her luck lately.  
   
Ripley helped Newt slide off the bed and wasn’t at all surprised when Hicks reached out from his seat in the chair and lifted the little girl into his lap. Once Ripley jumped up on the table, Keller plowed right into her exam as well. A few cuts and bruises were all that turned up, and Ripley was surprised Keller had even found those. Ripley herself had barely felt them in the chaos of the battle on LV-426, and ever since waking up here, on the _Sulaco,_ things had been hectic enough that she still hadn’t really noticed the wounds. It was amazing what adrenaline could do for a girl’s resistance to pain.  
   
Keller gave her a small dose of pain killers and bandaged up the few cuts that needed it, and then stepped away slowly, her eyes flicking to Connor as if waiting for some signal. It occurred to Ripley just judging from the way Connor seemed to be blocking the view through the door that maybe, just maybe, Hicks’ old CO was trying to stall for time before dragging the lot of them in for a rather uncomfortable round of questioning. It was heartening to see his concern, but it wasn’t going to do them any good in the long run. Better to just face it, Ripley decided. A glance and a raised eyebrow directed at to Hicks had her soldier nodding firmly over Newt’s head. He wasn’t in the mood to waste time either. Well good, at least they were in agreement.  
   
“So, Captain. Do we just sit here or do we get this over with?”  
   
Connor didn’t answer, just turned and glanced out the slight opening in the door as if checking if the coast was clear or not. He once again put his back to the door and just shook his head.  
   
“No need to be in such a hurry, ma’am. It’s not like it’s going to be enjoyable.” He shrugged at Ripley’s less than convinced look. Connor looked past her to Hicks as if looking for back up, but the other soldier just stared back as he had before they’d even come into the med bay. Ripley wondered if Connor wasn’t treading on thin ice with his former team mate. The tension in Hicks just kept building by the moment. Perhaps the only relaxed part of him was the hand softly rubbing Newt’s back. Connor looked away from Hicks and back to the women and then sighed gustily, lacing his hands behind his head. “Look, we’ve just got to wait a few more moments. Don’t ask why.”  
   
This time it was Ripley looking to Hicks for guidance or an answer. He nodded briefly; either he trusted Connor or he felt this was the only current option. If the former, well, hopefully things would turn out all right; if it was the latter, they’d play it by ear. Ripley knew it would be far more difficult to keep them locked up than even Hicks’ former CO might guess. Especially if things took a turn for the worse. They’d already survived one hell, and Ripley was not at all willing to jump right back into another, bureaucratic or otherwise. For now, though, there wasn’t much of another option than to slide a chair next to Hicks’ and let Newt crawl over far enough that she managed to curl up in both of their laps at once.  
   
Finally after the few more moments turned into another 20 minutes or so, Connor glanced back out the crack in the door only to straighten and backpedal as the door was suddenly shoved open the rest of the way and the towering bulk of Agent Mahonin filled the space.  
   
“I trust they’re all in good health, then, Captain?” At Connor’s nod, Mahonin spun on his heel, calling the others behind him as he strode off. “This way. Fall in  
   
The trio of survivors followed, Newt once again in Ripley’s arms, with Connor and the medic, Keller, flanking them on either side. Ripley wanted to scowl at the sight: where exactly did they think any of them could go even if they did manage to make a break for it? They were nearly to the airlock doors when the young private reappeared with Bishop in tow, the synthetic looking unharmed to Ripley’s relief. Or at least as unharmed as an android could be after having half of his body ripped off. He caught her watching him as he approached on the metallic legs and smiled briefly.  
   
“Is everyone alright?” he asked quietly, ignoring the agent’s glare as he spoke. There was no one like an artificial person for sheer refusal to be intimidated or refusal to even notice that they were supposed to be intimidated, Ripley thought fondly.  
   
“We all checked out. Hicks has some drops to use, and still should be seen by an eye doc, but we’re fine other than that.”  
   
“I’m glad to hear it.”  
   
“Anyone else feel the need for conversation, or can we move on?” Mahonin’s voice dripped with sarcasm, but Hicks just smiled sweetly.  
   
“I think we’re good. Thanks so much for asking.” Hicks kept a straight face while he said it, but Ripley’s lips twitched and a muffled giggle from her shoulder had the agent’s eyebrow creeping up his forehead before he schooled his expression back into the impassive mask he’d worn thus far.  
   
Ripley thought he’d speak again, but instead he just turned away and led them through the airlock door and into a small personnel transport not all that much bigger than the drop ship Ferro had piloted. Ripley sighed and allowed the medic to tug her through the airlock and onto the tiny transport. Keller led Ripley and Newt over to the passenger seats before leaving the way she’d come.  
   
A rather striking Latina was inside, the flight suit she wore signaling she was the pilot. She moved gracefully through the cabin, checking over the equipment in a routine Ripley recognized from countless transports sixty-some years ago, ensuring that the ship was still ready to go even after the short flight from the station to the _Sulaco._  
   
“Chacon, are we ready?” Mahonin asked, without any hint of patience. The young woman didn’t seem to note the brusque tone.  
   
“No sir, got a few more checks. Might as well get yourselves strapped in.” She continued in her duties without any pause, clearly dismissing the agent from her mind. Mahonin clenched his jaw, but didn’t argue.  
   
“Just get it done. We’re wasting time.”  
   
“I’ll get it done. If you hadn’t considered the flight records my priority, it’d _already_ be done.”  
   
As she carefully strapped Newt in between herself and Hicks and then settled in to the seat she’d chosen, Ripley decided liked the mouthy pilot. Anyone unwilling to put up with their prosecutor was fine in her book. Hicks seemed comfortable enough with Chacon to simply ignore her, something he hadn’t been willing to do around the medic. Ripley wondered if perhaps Chacon had been on Connor’s team back when Hicks was, but she didn’t want to ask. He’d tell her if it was important once they were out of earshot. Chacon came back by, marking off a few last things on a tablet, and then went around to each passenger to check that they were properly strapped in. She paused to offer a genuine smile to Newt, and Ripley liked the other woman even more.  
   
“You strapped in tight now?” Chacon asked, leaning down to check, and apparently not worried that Newt hadn’t answered. “I’m Trudy. I’m going to be your pilot back to the station, OK?”  
   
Newt nodded and, after a quick peek at Ripley, she even offered a shy smile back to the pilot.  
   
“I’m Newt.” If possible, Chacon smiled even more broadly, the expression making her striking looks suddenly beautiful.  
   
“There’s a smile. It’s nice to meet ya, Newt. I’ll see you once we arrive.” With one last wink at the little girl and a nod each to Ripley, Hicks, and Connor, she turned and headed forward to the cockpit.  
   
Mahonin grumbled something under his breath about subordinates thinking they ran their own schedules, but the rest of the passengers and prisoners just ignored him. Everyone knew the pilots were the ones in charge during a flight. If they didn’t think a transport was ready, then it probably wasn’t, and who the hell would want to fly in a ship that wasn’t space-ready? Certainly not Ripley. She’d had enough things go wrong lately; she sure as hell didn’t want to be on board if the transport pulled a sequel to the drop ship crashing on LV-426.  
   
It didn’t look like that would be the case though: whoever she might be, Chacon had a light touch on the throttle. Ripley barely felt the transport detach from the airlock, and the flight itself was as smooth as one would expect space to be. No random jarring or odd maneuvers like she remembered ship jockeys pulling just to make their trips more interesting.  
   
Really the pilot was a little too damned good at her job, or so Ripley decided as Chacon announced they were pulling in for a final approach only 10-20 minutes or so after departing. They could _not_ have been all that close to the station when the Marines showed up for their little surprise inspection. So for the pilot to push a little puddle jumper like this one to any type of speed without the whine of the engines giving it way? That was impressive. Impressive, but not all that convenient for the prisoners on board. The station was not going to be a comfortable place for any of them.  
   
Maybe not even for their erstwhile captors, she realized, tossing a quick glance toward Connor and Hardison, both of whom were fidgeting in a way that seemed out of place. Well, out of place on Connor; the tech definitely seemed like he might be the antsy type if given the opportunity. Mahonin, of course, seemed utterly unaffected by the whole situation.  
   
The hiss of the airlock told Ripley they’d actually arrived at Gateway, and it was like the transport cabin dropped at least a few degrees as foreboding crept back over her. She waited until the scowling agent motioned for them all to stand, and then let herself and Newt out of the security bars and belts, lifting Newt into her arms as she did. Hicks stood, as well, keeping himself between the pair and those around them, and Ripley was almost amused to see that the very sight of him was somehow intimidating the tech. And that was without anything resembling a weapon. Or even a shirt.  
   
He was a rather intimidating picture all on his own, she thought, sneaking a glance at him as they were herded through the station. Especially with the livid burns so vivid against his skin. Add in the fact that he was handsome and in excellent shape?  Yeah she thought, that was probably what brought on the stares (from both men and women as it happened) as the agent led the survivors out into the station itself and down through the halls until Ripley was hopelessly lost, despite the couple of months she’d been living there. The military escort and their captives moved out of the crowded public thoroughfares and into another hallway.  
   
Another man waited for them there, Mahonin’s partner maybe? He wasn’t in military dress so it seemed more likely than the possibility that he was another one of Connor’s team, but his dress code was the only hint Ripley had. The pair of agents barely acknowledged each other beyond one short nod, and then the newcomer keyed in a code, and they all passed through a set of doors marked ‘Security Only.’ The sign didn’t exactly fill Ripley with any kind of sense of security in the slightest. Neither did the Weyland-Yutani private mercenaries positioned further down the hallway near a few doors. And Ella Gaines’s cruel smile from where she stood between two of those fine beefy gentlemen? That made her feel even less safe.  
   
“I want them separated. Should have been kept that way before now. God only knows what story they’ve cooked up.” She shot Mahonin a disdainful glare. “I would have thought you would have known that, Agent Mahonin. Seems a little less than professional.”  
   
The agent hid a scowl, less than effectively in Ripley’s expert opinion, but if Gaines noticed, it only amused her. She dismissed him and turned her attention back to the quartet of survivors.  
   
“Get the android in 3, and the grunt in room 1. I want the kid in-”  
   
“You are not taking Newt anywhere.” Ripley hadn’t actually meant to respond to the bitch, as it was likely exactly what she wanted, but she’d be damned if she let them drag the terrified little girl away from the few people she felt safe with. Newt’s arms tightened around her neck, her little body trembling violently. Ripley just held her closer, eyes still on Gaines. “You can leave her with one of us. It’s not like she knows anything useful to you.”  
   
The other woman’s eyes narrowed in and Ripley forced herself not to back down at the vicious glare. Hicks once again was right behind her, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body against her shoulders. The feel of it gave her just enough strength to lift her chin and level her own stare right back. After a moment, Gaines finally looked away, and Ripley almost felt it was a victory. Not much of one, considering the other woman only nodded to the mercs around her, and they swept in to pull Bishop and Hicks away from Ripley, none too gently either. Newt whimpered softly, and Ripley felt her little head lift from her shoulder to look back to where Hicks was being taken.  
   
“Let the kid stay with her for now. Might as well keep the little brat out of trouble.” Ripley clutched the girl tighter as she and Newt were tugged toward a third doorway. She had just enough time to glance back to see Hicks paused at his own door, ignoring the mercs who tried to shove him forward.  
   
“See you soon, Ellen.” She didn’t have time to answer before the thug at her own back pushed her and Newt through the door and into the small bare room on the other side. They were followed by the same merc who’d pushed them and, to Ripley’s mild interest, Mahonin’s as yet un-named partner.  
   
He closed the door gently and nodded toward the mirror to where Ripley knew damned well someone was actually watching on the other side. He crossed to another door and stepped behind it for a moment while the merc muscled Ripley and Newt over to a table and chair. Ripley sat down hard and glared up at him, but the bastard just laughed and stalked out of the room like he owned the hallway. Ripley watched him go with something like relief. Meanwhile, Newt wiggled her way free of Ripley’s arms and slid down to huddle under the table, her back resting against Ripley’s legs. Ripley stroked her hair softly, the movement likely soothing her just as much as the little girl.  
   
The sound of the second door opening and the agent reappearing undid just about all of that, but the uncomfortable look on his face, as if he was almost as unhappy with the situation as she was, made her feel a little more safe around him. He handed her a bottle of water and then surprised her by crouching down and offering one to Newt.  
   
“You thirsty, honey?” He glanced up at Ripley, and nodded toward the one in her hand. “They’re not opened. Tamper free, I promise. I’ll even take the first drink if need be.”  
   
Ripley hesitated and the shrugged, twisting open the cap and taking a long drink. Newt peeked up at her as she did, and the tried to open her own bottle for a moment before offering it to the agent shyly. Ripley hid a grin as the little girl teased a tiny smile out of the solemn man as he took the bottle back and opened it for her. He handed it back and stood to his full height again, the air of responsibility settling back over him as the smile faded again.  
   
“Officer Ripley, Miss Jordan. I’m Agent Westen. As you probably guessed, I’ve got some questions I’ve got to ask. We need to go over what happened in as much detail as you can give me.” He rubbed his hand across his neck and paced back and forth in front of the table. “I’ll have to ask Newt for her side of the story too, I’m afraid. But you’ll be right here, OK?”  
   
Ripley nodded, impressed that he actually seemed to be pay attention to the comfort and relative mental well-being of his captives. Granted, they were still in an interrogation room with company thugs outside the door. Still, it could have been worse. It could have been Mahonin’s looming intimidation or Gaines’ flat-assed and bitchy near-insanity. She’d take respectful investigation over the other options any day.  
   
Westen turned on a vid-recorder in the corner of the room and positioned it to be in proper view of the table and the woman on the other side. Then he began to ask his questions, pacing all the while. She was grateful of the bottle of water as her voice began to go dry the longer she spoke, rehashing the horror story of the doomed mission and massacred colonists on LV-426. There were times she reached down to cover Newt’s ears, not that it really kept the little girl from hearing her go over the things they’d both seen. It made Ripley feel better at least, and Westen’s respect for Ripley seemed to grow with each moment.  
   
She hoped it might count for something, that at least one of the agents investigating them might actually speak for the survivors instated of for the company, but no one knew how the investigation would go in the long run. Given her previous experience with Weyland-Yutani idea of fair play as per her previous deposition and subsequent stripping of rank… Well, it didn’t look good.  
   
She kept talking, trying desperately to keep from breaking into the kind of belligerent ranting that even she had to admit was a big part of what killed her tiny shred of a chance before the deposition panel. It was harder than she would have guessed; it was like talking about the deaths made them real again. Ripley hadn’t quite realized yet just how hard everything was going to hit her.  
   
Sure she’d undergone psych evals monthly since first being found floating about in space, but mechanically explaining the night terrors and the shaking in her hands to a suit and tie who didn’t give a shit about her really didn’t allow her to grieve. Especially not when the shrink didn’t believe a damned thing she’d said. It was like being in a room, knowing everyone around her thought she was batshit crazy. The psychologist might have been sincere in his concern, but she’d needed understanding more than pity.  
   
Somehow, Westen seemed to understand. And that was bringing the fear and despair and panic right back to the surface. She was only holding it together by a thread now, and only because of the child curled up at her feet. Newt had seen enough for more than any lifetime; she needed her mother (and damned if anyone was going to convince Ripley that she wasn’t anything else to the girl now) to hold it together. Needed her to be strong, so the child that Newt still desperately wanted to be didn’t have to.  
   
Ripley herself wanted to be the one wailing like a baby when Newt finally started answering his questions, her voice barely a whisper from under the table. She’d refused to come out to be in front of the camera, and Westen hadn’t argued with the little girl. Instead he’d just repositioned the camera to get a better view of her, and he’d sank down to sit on the floor. Thanks to her aggravating shrink, Ripley knew well enough that he was getting down to Newt’s level, keeping himself from being intimidating as best he could. It was sweet of him, Ripley thought, though she didn’t really want to think it. He was still making Newt answer him after all. That right there didn’t win him any points.  
   
Finally, thank God _finally_ , Westen seemed to have asked all of the questions he could. He slipped back through the second door again for another bottle of water for both of the girls and then quietly excused himself and left, leaving them alone in the room. Newt peeked out from under the table toward the door after the agent, and then carefully crawled back up into Ripley’s lap and curled up with her face against Ripley’s neck.  
   
Ripley wrapped her arms back around her little girl and sighed, hoping the damned interviews would be done for their friends too. She wanted Bishop hovering in the background like a robotic sentry with a hidden heart she felt herself growing more and more dependent on. She wanted Hicks back beside her again and giving her strength just by fucking existing. She just wanted them safe and sound and back with her and Newt. They were a unit now; they needed each other for stability. She had to get them back. She sat there with Newt in silence, just waiting for the door to open and hoping to see Hicks’ face on the other side.  
   
When the door finally opened though, it was _not_ her favorite Marine standing there, of course. No, it was Gaines’ strangely glaring and grinning face, her eyes narrowed right on Ripley and Newt as she stalked in with a pair of her pet thugs behind her. Something in Ripley twisted with a sudden fear, and instinctively she wrapped her arms tighter around her little girl.  
   
It wasn’t tight enough.  
   
“Take her.” At the command and nod from Gaines, the two men swept forward and one ripped Newt from Ripley’s arms before she could manage to fight back. She recovered quickly and threw herself at the retreating mercenary, but the other lashed out with a vicious back hand, knocking her clear across the room to slam into the unforgiving metal of the table. She cried out in pain and tried to gather herself up from where she’d crumpled on the floor, but she just didn’t have enough time to manage it.  
   
Carrying the vid recorder in one hand, Gains gave a mocking smile and a wave, and then swept out of the room again, pausing only for one last dig.  
   
“Don’t worry. I’ll take proper care of the brat.” Then she slammed the door behind her.  
   
“Newt! No, bring her back, you bitch!” The sound of the door closing between Ripley and Newt goaded her into action again, and she lunged, ramming into the door and trying desperately to open it, but the panel held firm and securely locked. She tried again anyway, throwing every bit of her body weight and strength into the attempt, screaming Newt’s name over and over again without really knowing she did so. She pounded on the door until she couldn’t stand it anymore and then moved to the mirror and the door that led behind it. Neither of those gave, either. She managed to put a few cracks in the mirror itself, but nothing like an actual hole or a way for her to get the fuck out of there and get her daughter back.  
   
Her daughter. God, she couldn’t lose Newt, not like she’d lost her Amanda to old age and distance and 57 fucking years in hypersleep. She just couldn’t. Not now. Now ever.  
   
“Newt! God damn it, someone open the door. Give me back my daughter, you bitch! Give her back!” She collapsed in the middle of the tiny room where the table had been until her body had shifted it in the middle of the fray. “Please, someone give her back.” She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked, the fear and self-loathing at the thought that she’d just let them take Newt away crashing over her and she sobbed, tears falling down until her chest ached from the strain of her cries. “Hicks… Dwayne, where are you? They took Newt… They took her…”  
   
She trailed off, her words fading as the sobbing wracked through her again. How could she have been so stupid, so weak? She had to get her back. She just had to.  
   
The sound of someone rattling the door had her surging to her feet, her entire body all but vibrating with the desire to move, to attack, to rip someone’s fucking head off if her baby was harmed.  
   
The door open and Mahonin was unfortunate enough to step through first. Ripley flew at him, her height giving her the reach she needed to send her fist slamming into his face and actually sending the huge Marine rocking back a step in surprise and pain. She didn’t leave it at that though; she continued hitting him, one fist after the other, panicked angry words rushing out of her lips like the manic babble of a lunatic.  
   
Ripley knew she was out of control; it wasn’t like she wasn’t aware that attacking the agent in charge was a bad idea, but she literally _could not_ stop herself. She wanted Newt and she wanted her now, and the man in front of her was standing between her and the door. He needed to move. It was just that simple.  
   
Through her hysteria she vaguely heard Mahonin shout something, and the man she barely recognized as Westen behind him, took off out into the hall again at a dead sprint. Though where too, she didn’t really know or care.  
   
“I want her back, you bastard! I want her back now!” Mahonin was trying his best to restrain her, and the rational part of Ripley buried too deep to actually do anything about it, was almost impressed by his own restraint. He could have easily knocked her on her ass as the other thug had done, or even just taken her to the floor and held her that way. There were dozens of ways he could have stopped her; most of those just involved violence, and he seemed to be avoiding those, strangely enough. Too bad for him – Ripley wasn’t playing by the same rules. She scratched at his face and eyes, and slammed her feet at whatever part of him was closest. Ripley had likely bitten his hands at least once or twice, though damned if she could actually remember.  
   
Mahonin just kept hold of her as best he could, the only real advantage he had was that his training had given him more in the way of endurance than Ripley after who knew how many hours without real sleep and even less with any sense of calm. Sure the fight or flight response was in full and violent effect, but she could feel her strength fading the longer she battered at the immovable wall of muscle and Marine.   
   
Out past Mahonin, the thud of running boots and a cacophony of raised voices shouting god only knew what at each other sounded up and down the hallway, but Ripley didn’t give a damn what was being said until one familiar voice called out her name. She gave one last halfhearted shove at the agent, and then half slithered and squeezed her way around his un-protesting frame to make it to the doorway. Then she lunged, practically falling into Hicks’ waiting arms. He curled her into him, arms blocking out the chaos around them and giving her a strong solid port in her emotional storm. She broke and wept into his chest, clutching at whatever parts of him he could reach.  
   
“She took her. She took Newt. She took her away.” Ripley kept repeating it over and over, unable to break the cycle of her words in her hysteria. Hicks just held on, arms never loosening, despite the fact that she must have clung too hard to his wounds more that once already. Her tears finally eased, and she risked a glance up, terrified she’d find blame in his eyes.  Instead he just wiped her tears away with one hand and dropped his forehead to hers.  
   
“We’ll get her back, Ellen. I promise.”


	7. Newt Interlude II

_Meanwhile…_  
   
Newt didn’t know why the lady was taking her away but she didn’t like it. It didn’t feel right; she was mean, dragging her down the halls and Newt’s arm was hurting. Ripley was yelling through the door and she sounded scared and angry, and Newt didn’t want her angry. She just wanted her back, wanted to be safe and sound with her new mommy and Hicks and Bishop. It was scary here. The mean lady was yelling and the big men had guns they kept waving around.  
   
She didn’t know where she was, either, and she didn’t want to be lost. How would Ripley find her if she was lost? Newt tried to slow the bad men as best she could, dragging her sock-clad feet against the floor and refusing to run as those around her were trying to do. The mean lady finally shouted out a bad word and half-lifted and half-shoved Newt into the arms of one of the big men beside her.  
   
Now Newt couldn’t do anything at all to slow them down; the big man barely noticed he carried her at all as far as she could tell. He only held her in one arm, carrying her as easily as the big gun he had in the other hand. The group hurried down hallways and through doors and in and out of elevators from one level to another without rhyme or reason that Newt could tell. They finally strode through another set of double doors into a large room with a massive table in the middle with lots of cushiony chairs. The mean lady sank down into one of them and started barking orders. Newt was deposited on a much less cushy chair in a corner with two of the big men planted on either side of her, glaring faces making it clear that she was _not_ to try to run off. The camera was taken from the mean lady and set up on the table pointing to Newt’s corner.  
   
Then the mean lady stood and started stalking back and forth around the table and chairs, calling out question after question, her voice snapping when Newt didn’t answer quick enough. Newt tried to answer all of them; she _did,_ but the lady wouldn’t listen to her. She just kept asking over and over again, telling her she was lying and bad girls who lied got their asses beat, and Newt got scared and her voice ran off and hid. She couldn’t answer anymore; she _couldn’t._  
   
The mean lady just got angrier and angrier, and the big men almost seemed scared of her, too, but none of them helped Newt at all. Nobody brought her water even though when her voice came back, it was rough and scratchy, and they wouldn’t let her go potty either when she asked.  
   
Newt just didn’t know what to do. The lady said to tell the truth and Newt did but then she said she was still lying. What was Newt supposed to tell her? The mean lady wouldn’t say, just kept saying that was Newt said was wrong and a lie and she was in such trouble!  
   
Newt finally just stopped talking. It didn’t matter what she said, the mean lady was going to be mad anyway. She just rocked in her hard little chair, eyes focused away, wishing, hoping, praying Ripley and Hicks would come and rescue her.  Newt still wouldn’t speak, not even when the lady shouted at her, and that made the mean lady even more mad, and then she flew into a rage, screaming at the big men and waving her arms around like a crazy bird stuck on the ground. One by one the men filed out of the room as the mean lady shouted at them, battering at them with her small hands until they all were gone and it was just Newt and her alone by the big table and the camera.  
   
Newt curled up even tighter, wanting to hide or even vanish. She didn’t want to be there anymore; she wanted to be gone and away from the mean lady. The lady’s face was getting colder and colder, lines of hate and rage twisting it until she looked like a monster to Newt’s eyes.  
   
“Mommy,” she whispered helplessly.  
 


	8. Chapter 5

Hicks wrapped his arms tighter around Ripley as she shook against him. It was staggering, seeing this woman he’d known to be every bit as tough as the other Marines in his unit just falling apart in front of him. Hell, she’d turned out to be even tougher than several of them; that was what made this all the more surreal and damned painful to watch. If he was honest though, he knew better. He’d seen her after Newt fell through the grating and out of their fingertips back on the colony: she’d shattered to pieces, hysterical for the first time in the short span they’d known each other. That, too, was something he needed to remember; he may have known Ripley to be strong and unshakeable, but he hadn’t really known her that long. It didn’t seem likely that she’d be that much frailer than expected, but still. Who knew?  At the very least, he knew damned well that children were Ripley’s weakness. Hell, they were _Hicks’s_ weakness, and he’d worked pretty damned hard to limit any weakness to a minimum.  But shove a tiny little mite under his protective wing, and watch him completely lose his cool.  
   
Shit, the single solitary reason Hicks _hadn’t_ lost control thus far was the fact that Ripley already had. One of the two of them had to stay strong so they could work towards getting Newt back. Since Ripley was currently shaken down to her foundations, Hicks would just stand for both of them as long as she needed him to. That decision straightened his shoulders. He had a job to do.  
   
He fell back into his training, sweeping the corridor for hostiles and friendlies alike. It didn’t surprise him to see that the Weyland-Yutani mercs had vanished along with the bitch and Newt: hired muscle like that would stick close to their payday. That was unfortunate as it meant the Gaines would have more bodies between her and Hicks when he caught up with her. He’d have to deal with that eventually.  
   
Hopefully not quite alone, though. He made a quick headcount of friendlies: Connor, of course. Hardison, the tech seemed a little twitchy, but a hacker was also a handy thing to have. Connor’s 2IC Sergeant Reynolds and his second Corporal Washburn stood further down the hall, guarding the doorway most likely; they were a solid pair and would barely need any direction from Connor to start an effective search. Corporal Chacon rounded out the small group of allies currently close enough to help, and she filled out the group nicely. The pilot was a damn capable Marine, and it never hurt to have an escape route on hand.  
   
It wasn’t a large group of people to find the bitch on a station this size. Hicks stroked a hand down Ripley’s hair, and eyed the pair of agents, wondering if they’d be willing to help against their orders and the will of Weyland-Yutani. The younger guy might; he’d seemed a little less blasé about the whole interrogation thing.  
   
“Where would she have been taken?” Hicks finally asked quietly, the lowered tone doing nothing to hide the sheer rage in his voice. One of the Marines, Hardison he thought, gulped audibly, but Connor and the two agents seemed to show no sign of concern at the angry soldier and hysterical woman in their midst.  Westen moved to a console on the wall and tapped in a code, then frowned at the screen.  
   
“She’s locked out my code, Mahonin.” The larger agent scowled and tapped in another set of keys.  
   
“Shit.”  
   
“Hardison, do you think you can-” Connor began to speak but another voice cut him off, and the words were not at all what Hicks would have expected.  
   
“Is this really necessary?” Bishop asked from the door of his interrogation room. “Ms. Gaines works for the company – one of the agents of Weyland-Yutani would not stoop to harming a child. Newt should be fine in her care.”   
   
Bishop showed no sign of concern or fear, neither for Newt nor for himself, though Hicks figured his own glare could have lit the synthetic on fire with its menace.  
   
To Hicks’s surprise, there was another glare almost as vicious as his coming from the pilot who’d transported all of them from the _Sulaco_ to the Gateway Station. Trudy Chacon had always been the kind of soldier he could easily respect, but he hadn’t realized she had the same soft spot for kids that he did. It could be helpful, assuming that soft spot equaled a stronger drive to help him find his little blonde miracle.  
   
Bishop still looked back and forth from one to the other of the people around them, as if expecting some voice to offer agreement to the bile he’d just spewed. Hicks almost felt sorry for the synthetic. He was fairly certain half of the android’s “they’ll do no harm” stance was the company protocols programmed into him, but that didn’t make the other half any easier to swallow. Common sense might tell him that a woman wouldn’t willfully harm a child, but it didn’t mean it wouldn’t happen, anyway. And with Newt as that child? They were not taking that risk. Hicks just didn’t believe that the Ella Gaines he’d met was anything other than a crazy bitch with a focus on her own bottom line. If Newt stood between Gaines and her payday from the xenomorphs and that strange ship, then she would do everything in her power to get that child out of the way of that cash flow.  
   
Hicks was not going to let that happen. And he would keep that from happening with or without Bishop’s help and support. Granted he’d prefer it if he had that help. But there were others to work with him. He had to believe that.  
   
Ripley’s shudders were slowly fading, and he could practically feel the steel re-inserting itself into her spine. The thought made him smile finally, and he didn’t need the sight of Connor’s answering grin to know his own had gone feral. He’d been ready to get in gear, but with Ripley getting her strength back? Now he was damn near excited. That Gaines bitch had no idea what cage she’d shaken. It was time to get things moving.  
   
“Connor, you think you can get your tech going on his scavenger hunt?” Hicks’ old CO nodded, and the lanky private moved to the panel on the wall before Connor even had to give the order. “Bishop, are you with us or not? We’re going to get her. Just because Gaines is company, doesn’t mean they won’t hurt her. Believe or not. Your choice.”  
   
“Bishop, Gaines belongs to the company. The same company that gave us Burke and Ash and God only knows how many other heartless assholes.” Ripley’s voice was raw after her sobbing, but the words themselves were steady as she pulled just far enough away from Hicks to turn and look at the synthetic. “You saw the colony first hand; you know what a Weyland-Yutani agent is capable of.”   
   
Hicks could tell from the slight tick in Bishop’s face that Ripley’s words were sinking in, but it wasn’t a fact the android was comfortable with. It would take a while before he could admit to the truth. Maybe Connor’s pet tech could hack his protocols, let him decide this one without the influence of company programming. Assuming they had time to let Hardison do so.  
   
Ripley offered Hicks a shaky smile and then stood tall again, all seventy-one inches of her projecting that powerful presence that had helped take control back on LV-426. The survivors of his squad had been helpless to resist her, and judging from the slight squaring of Connor’s shoulders and the way Reynolds and Washburn seemed to slip into parade rest, Hicks figured she was having the same effect here now.  Bishop finally settled in, coming to stand at Hicks and Ripley’s side, with them at least for now.  
   
The agents watched from where they stood near the far wall, and they exchanged the kind of glance Hicks remembered sharing with Apone. Those two were planning something, but damned if they were going to share with the rest of the class. Hicks decided not to bother wondering; there was plenty of work to do even if they didn’t decide to help.  
   
Hicks turned to watch the one person who could save them a shit-ton of time in the search. The tech was muttering to himself, half the console in front of him ripped open somehow, and a mess of wires falling out. He pulled a data pad from God knew where and then patched it into one of the free wires. That done, Hardison began typing damn near faster than Hicks could watch, his fingers sliding across the screen and inputting one command after another. After a moment a smug smile spread across his face, and he called out for his CO to come and see. Hicks moved with Connor over to the young man’s side as he began to explain what he’d found.  
   
“Alright, whats-her-face covered her tracks pretty good. A virus hit the surveillance system just about few minutes ago. Two guesses who would have done that.”  
   
“So you can’t track her through the system?” Hicks couldn’t help but ask, frustration making his voice harsher than he meant it to be. But seriously, what use was a hacker who couldn’t hack a surveillance system?  
   
Hardison leveled a wounded look in Hicks’s direction and then rolled his eyes at Connor.  
   
“As I was saying… A virus hit the system, but it only took out the connection between the cameras and the main security system. The cameras themselves were still recording.” His wounded look was now smug as hell as Hicks straightened at the new intel. “I managed to patch into the grid. And we’ve got Miss Thang headed on her merry way with your little bundle of joy and the whole of the goon squad. You know, it’s not exactly low key to be running around with your own personal military escort… Even if I wasn’t a technical genius we’d be able to follow her just by word of mouth from any one of those dozens of witnesses. Really, you’d think she’d plan it…” He trailed off as he realized Connor and Hicks were both staring at him, impatience clear on their faces.  
   
“But you aren’t interested in that. What you want to know is that the crazy has barricaded herself on Section 12 on G-Deck. Some kind of conference room or something.” He tapped a few more keys and an image popped up of a hallway populated by Weyland-Yutani mercenaries.  
   
“Looks like that’s everybody but Gaines and the kid,” Connor commented, his arms crossed and his brow furrowed.  
   
“That’s a lot of bodies to get through.” Hicks voice was as casual as Connor’s had been, and the pair exchanged a long look. “Should be fun.”  
   
They turned as one to see Connor’s team and Ripley and Bishop all ready and waiting to be told what the plan was. The agents stood aloof, and Hicks tilted his head.  
   
“You going to help or stay out of the way?” Everyone likely noticed that he gave the pair no other option. They were _not_ going to get in his way. The agents exchanged a glance.  
   
“You know this is out of hand,” Westen said, raising an eyebrow at Mahonin who nodded and then almost chuckled.  
   
“I’ll make the call. You folks enjoy your little rescue.” He turned and left, Westen close behind him. Good riddance, Hicks thought bitterly. He and his allies would be better off without them, anyway.  
   
“Let’s get on with it,” Hicks said, and Connor and Ripley both nodded.  
   
Connor started barking out orders, most of them just what Hicks would expect. Reynolds and Washburn took off in search of some non-lethal weaponry, and Hardison tapped out more commands on his tablet, typing in the codes that would hopefully lock most of the station residents in and keep them from wandering the halls. Hopefully being the key word. They needed the collateral damage kept to a minimum, and that meant keeping civilians the hell out of the way. Chacon had vanished after her Sergeant, but appeared again before the other soldiers returned. In her hands were several tac vests and a soft shirt. She passed out the vests to each of the rescue party, and then handed the shirt to Hicks with a wry grin.  
   
“You might be more comfortable like that, but the rest of us don’t need the distraction.” She turned away before Hicks could make any crack about his shirtlessness causing what kind of distraction. Instead he settled for a lift of his eyebrows and a wicked smile aimed at Ripley who just rolled her eyes and helped ease him into the shirt and then the vest. He shoved the straps closed and then helped Ripley fasten hers on properly, too. It was a little amusing seeing her in her civilian clothing and the military tactical armor. “Hell of a look on you.”  
   
“Isn’t it, though?” she smirked and for a moment the fear for Newt and anger at Gaines and the company seemed to vanish as desire sparked across the connection of their gaze. When this was over and the rest of their family was safe and sound, Hicks promised himself, they’d take full advantage of that heat between them. It wasn’t even a question anymore, of whether or not she was actually his now. She just was, like Newt was somehow just theirs.  
   
The thought of Newt banished the desire again, and somehow Ripley seemed to feel that change, as well. Almost as one, they turned away from each other to face the rest of the group. Ripley leaned against his shoulder as they waited for Reynolds and Washburn to return. It was the only connection either of them dared for now. Hicks had the feeling if they touched any more than that, one of the two of them would break as Ripley had already done once. It would just be too easy to give in with the other there to keep them whole and safe once the hysterics stopped. And right now they just didn’t have the time.  
   
Reynolds and Washburn returned at a run, the sergeant grinning about something, and tossing a laughing comment over his shoulder at his second. Reynolds’s playful attitude annoyed the shit out of Hicks. Didn’t the man know they had a mission to save a little girl? It wasn’t exactly the time for jokes, damn it. He buried the urge as Ripley stiffened beside him.  He reminded himself that he knew Reynolds, even if she didn’t, and he knew Reynolds was one of those men who covered any weakness or uncertainty with humor when in the field. Hudson had been just like him that way.  
   
The thought of Hudson brought a sad smile to Hicks’s face as he checked over the police issue stun rifle Washburn handed him. The dark haired woman smiled back and then turned to offer another one of the weapons to Ripley. Hicks tuned Washburn out as she fell into the role of instructor, showing Ripley the ins and outs of the stun rifle. The sight brought on a sense of déjà vu, though he highly doubted Washburn was feeling the same physical reaction to Ripley’s close proximity that he had in the same situation.  
   
The fact that she was madly in love with her eccentric pilot of a husband made that a pretty fair bet, anyway.  
   
He shrugged to himself as Washburn finished up her show and tell and turned to her CO for her orders. Connor looked around to see if the rest of their party was ready, and then nodded at Hicks.  
   
“It’s your show, Corporal.”  Hicks felt a feral grin crook his lips. Show time. He hefted his stun rifle and began striding to the door at the end of the hall, the others falling into step in formation behind him.  
   
“Hardison, take point.” For a brief moment Hicks worried the tech might not be able to handle it, but after a quick glance to his tablet, Hardison nodded to himself and then fell in, leading the way, his own rifle held ready in his other arm.  The group picked up the pace, moving at a ground covering jog, the thud of their steadily pounding feet and the click of Bishop’s exoskeleton the only sounds they made.  
   
They made their way across the station and up the necessary levels quickly; Hardison clearly knew exactly where they were headed. Hicks allowed himself a moment of gratitude to Connor for sharing the tech, and then he buried it again under his focused demeanor. He couldn’t bury the fierce satisfaction at finally having a clear opponent to fight. The soldier in him had been too far out of his depth for way too long. The xenomorphs had been completely out of his experience, but mercenaries who kidnapped little girls? These wouldn’t be the first assholes he helped bring down, and if he remained in the Marines, they wouldn’t be the last either. These bastards could bring it on. He’d deal with them and get his Newt back. And he’d enjoy the ass kicking necessary to do both.  
   
The few civilians who’d accidentally avoided being caught in Hardison’s “official security” lockdown scurried out of the way as the armed and violent looking group passed.  Not even one dared to speak out or ask the group where they were headed; Hicks guessed as long as it was somewhere else, they didn’t really care. That had been his experience with the residents of this station in the past. Ripley’s drive to care for everyone around her was definitely not the norm around here. Judging from Ripley’s scornful glare every time they passed one of those civilians, he was probably right about their attitudes.   
   
“Not your problem, just look away,” he muttered spitefully, and Ripley shrugged at him from where she jogged beside him. It was _their_ problem, and they could handle it on their own, he told himself firmly. Ripley was the only civilian he wanted fighting with them; she was one of the only people he could trust to keep up.  
   
And she did keep up, her long legs keeping pace with his like she’d been trained to do it. Maybe she had, he reminded himself, suddenly remembering that she’d been a Warrant Officer for someone or some branch of the military. Probably anyway.  
   
The team pounded up another set of stairs only barely breathing hard; adrenaline was keeping them all at their top form. They wouldn’t have been able to use the elevators at all with Hardison’s lockdown in affect, but damned if Hicks wasn’t glad to avoid the sudden stillness they’d be forced into in an elevator. And anyway, a group of this many armed people would never have fit into just one car; they would have had to separate, and just the thought of that set Hicks ill at ease. The team would stay together for this rescue. It was just safer that way; LV-426 had taught him that if nothing else.  
   
Hardison led them down one corridor and then another, barely pausing to check the tablet under his arm. Hicks had to give the man credit; he was totally confident on his location. Hicks didn’t know many people who could memorize a map that quickly, not even among the soldiers he was familiar with, but the tech seemed to have managed it pretty damned well.  
   
It gave him even more confidence in himself and the team that he had gathered around him and the rest of the survivors. They would get Newt back. They had to.  
   
They approached one last corridor and the surroundings began to look familiar from the glimpse Hicks had gotten of the surveillance vids. Hardison held up a hand to slow the team and as they came to a halt around them, he then nodded toward the door to another corridor. None of the mercs were visible in this hallway, and Hicks guessed most would be on guard behind that door.  
  
The team was still silent as they approached the door, one slow step at a time. Connor reached the panel first, and he turned to raise an eyebrow at Hicks. He nodded and made sure he deliberately caught everyone’s eyes for a moment wanting to make sure everyone was focused and ready. Then he held up a hand and counted down on from 5 on his fingers.  
   
He reached “One” and Connor slammed in the code sending the door sliding open and the soldiers pouring in.  
   
In the end, Hicks was almost disappointed. The battle was anti-climatic to say the least. The mercenaries weren’t expecting any type of resistance or attack. Not while in their nice and tidy, company controlled station. Apparently Gaines hadn’t thought to warn them of just who they were taking the child from. That or they just assumed the agents in charge would do the work of keeping the military contingent from releasing the soldier who was being held for questions. The solider that might just be pissed as hell that they’d helped Gaines take the child.  
   
At least, he did get to enjoy stunning the shit out of several of the mercs. His allies took care of the rest of the bulked up military wash-outs in short order. The piled forms of the black clad men gave Hicks a slight thrill, but he pushed it aside for the sight of Hardison standing beside the one door on that hallway. The tall tech held a finger to his lips, and silently the others gathered around. He patched his tablet into the keypad by the door, and then Hicks saw the young man get angry for the first time. Judging from the sheer rage on the tech’s face, Hicks was not going to be pleased by what he found on the other side. He hurried to Hardison’s side and looked down to find an image that set him shaking in anger.  
   
He couldn’t speak; Ripley and Bishop came up behind him to peer over his shoulder and down at the tablet. He could tell by the sudden hiss of breath that they saw exactly what he did.  
   
That bitch was trying to drag Newt out from under the large table in the middle of the room by her ankle. What little of their baby girl’s legs that they could see was mottled with bruises the size of a grown woman’s hands. He turned to meet Ripley’s eyes and found all the rage and violence he expected to see lurking there.  
   
What he didn’t expect was the sudden roar as Bishop broke away from their paralyzed group and slammed at the door panel, battering it with his fists until the door opened and the synthetic lunged in at the woman still crouched beside the table. Hicks guessed the exoskeleton was the only thing that saved Gaines life, as the metallic legs skidded on the floor and threw the synthetic’s attack off by just an inch. He still slammed into the bitch, but it was more on her legs than her torso. Judging from shriek she let out, the tackle still hurt like a son of a bitch. The weight of all that metal would have been heavy, and she’d have more than a few bruises.  
   
Served the bitch right. Hicks was amused to note that he wasn’t the only one who hesitated to pull Bishop off of Gaines. Ripley settled for one swift kick to the bitch’s ribs, but then she was too distracted by the little girl crawling frantically out from under the table to throw herself into her arms with a panicked cry of ‘Mama!’ Hicks was just as distracted as his Ripley, and he turned away from the wailing figure of the company employee to wrap his arms around both of them. He held them both tightly and closed his eyes in relief, reveling in the feel of them both safe and back in his arms where they belonged.  
   
“Hicks, hate to break this up, but you’ve got to move.”  At the sound of Connor’s voice, he composed himself enough to open his eyes and look around the room. Bishop was standing again, his face dark with a bruise blooming over one eye from where Hicks guessed Gaines had struck him in self defense. The android was shaking violently, probably in a reaction to the attack itself playing havoc with his behavioral inhibitors. He wasn’t supposed to harm humans, ever, not even such poor specimens as Gaines had proven to be. Hicks hoped the synthetic would be alright, but they couldn’t afford to wait for him to pull it together. Connor was right: they couldn’t be here when station security finally caught up with them.  
   
“Sir, I can get them to the transport. They’ll need my codes to get her off the ground,” Chacon said from his post near the door. Connor nodded.  
   
“Good call. Hicks,” he said and turned to offer his hand. “It was good to see you.” Hicks let go of Ripley for just as long as it took to shake the offered hand.  
   
“Yeah. It was. Would have been nice if it was under other circumstances, though.” Connor nodded, his smile just as rueful as Hicks knew his own probably was. “Thanks.”  
   
Hicks nodded once more and then waving Bishop after them, he and Ripley followed Chacon out the door, Newt safely nestled in Ripley’s arms. It didn’t take them long to traverse the station to the docking bay. Clearly Chacon was more familiar with the station than Hicks was. She didn’t even have the option of looking at a map like Hardison had, but she still remained supremely confident of her destination. Hicks allowed himself to smile in relief. They were finally going to get the hell out of here.  
   
The group of soldiers, civilian, child, and android piled through the docking bay door and then slammed to a halt in shock and fear.  
   
In front of Chacon’s small transport ship were Agents Mahonin and Westen and another tall man half hidden in the shadow of the ship itself.  
   
“Well, well,” Mahonin said, pacing forward deliberately, “planning a trip?”   
   
Hicks scowled and moved to place himself in front of Ripley and Newt with Bishop and Chacon flanking the pair, as well. He readied his stun rifle, knowing that if he was forced to fire on the agents, they’d all likely be wanted fugitives. Damn it, he fumed. They’d been so fucking close!  
   
“Asher, don’t be an ass,” the third man suddenly said, and moved forward into the light. He was tall, probably as tall as Westen or Hicks, and dressed in an expensive looking suit. Probably another agent, Hicks decided, though damned if Mahonin or Westen looked like they could afford the suit the new guy was wearing. “They made it this far. I’d say they deserve an explanation.” He stepped forward between the other two agents and held out a hand to Hicks. “I’m Director William Cooper, stationed at New Quantico.”  
   
“New Quantico,” Hicks repeated. He lowered the rifle as the pieces started falling together. New Quantico held most of the military’s intelligence branches as well as being a major training base. It would make sense that a former Marine-turned-agent like Mahonin might have contacts there, but why would that contact be here now? And why someone as highly placed as a director? Cautiously he reached out to shake the man’s hand, and was rewarded with a startling smile.  
   
“Sorry about all the confusion,” Cooper began, though the smile fell as Ripley moved forward slightly, and Newt’s bruised face came into view. “Sorry for that, too.” Cooper said, his voice strained. “We knew Gaines was one of the less Company’s less savory employees, but this is farther than she’s ever come close to going. Best guess is that her fiancé’s death sent her over the edge. I never would have allowed things to get this far. I swear it. I’ve got kids of my own.” For a moment, Cooper looked just as regretful as Hicks would want, but he didn’t think that regret would make up for whatever pain Gaines had caused his little girl.  
   
“So what do you want from us? What’s the point?” Ripley demanded, and Hicks nodded his agreement with her question.  
   
“Your cooperation and intel.” He answered without hesitating, and Hicks got the feeling this was a conversation Cooper, at least, had been expecting to have with the survivors. “I can get you off station and to a safe location; if you both agree to share all you know abut the xenomorphs and how to kill them.”  
   
Hicks blinked and exchanged a shocked look with Ripley. This was probably the first time someone _hadn’t_ immediately acted as if they were crazy for the story they’d been telling. It was gratifying, unexpected but gratifying. Still, there had to be a catch.  
   
“Share it with who?” he asked, not bothering to hide the suspicion in his voice.  
   
“The Colonial Marines and the Intelligence community at large.”  
   
“But not Weyland-Yutani?” Ripley asked slyly. Cooper had the balls to wink at her.  
   
“Something like that.” He shrugged, all business again. “Look, they’ll go back to LV-426. We know it, you know it. I’d be willing to bet another ship is already on its way there. We can’t stop them from finding a way to bring a specimen back. And when that happens…”  
   
He trailed off, but Hicks knew just how much of a disaster that would be. Even one of those bugs lose among the general public would mean a massacre. And if that specimen was a queen? It wasn’t something he even wanted to think about.  
   
“The long and the short of it is this: we need soldiers ready and able when that happens. You and Warrant Officer Ripley are the only ones left with combat experience against these things. And Bishop is the one scientist who’s gotten a look at them up close. Between the three of you, you might just have enough experience to give us a fighting chance. If you do the training, that is.” Cooper raised an eyebrow. “So how about it: you want the job?”  
   
Hicks took a deep breath and exchanged a long look with Ripley. It could be a deal with the devil. Did they dare? Hell, did they really have a choice? Slowly, Ripley began to nod, and he let his breath out. So be it.  
   
“Alright. We’re in.”


	9. Epilogue

Director Cooper had been true to his word. The transfer to the Colonial Marine training planet, New Quantico, had been gone through with the utmost discretion and in only a few hours. As far as everyone else knew, the questionable characters Mahonin had pulled in for investigation regarding the incidents on LV-426 had “tragically” died in a shuttle explosion while making their escape. And while the station security tried to figure _that_ mess of evidence out, Ripley and the others (along with a cat who was less than pleased at being pulled from his comfortable bed) were snuck aboard the _Ghost_ , Cooper’s personal transport. It had almost been a relief to be back on a station-to-planet transport ship putting distance between them and Weyland-Yutani’s overwhelming control. That they were accompanied by some of their new allies only added to the relief, at least in Ripley’s eyes.  
   
Hicks’s tension had visibly eased some when Cooper told them Connor and his squad would join them on the training base. It had taken some strings being pulled, but for the project they were planning, it had been decided that trust among the members of the team was every bit as important as drawing in specific skill sets. They’d be training an entire company of Marines to successfully fight off the xenomorph infestation that they all knew Weyland-Yutani was going to bring crashing down.  
   
If they couldn’t stop the company from its current path, they’d at least do their damndest to protect the unknowing civilians who’d be the most likely casualties of the company’s search for military power.  
   
So far no one from the company knew what the Marine brass was planning, or so Ripley hoped with every fiber of her being. Once again, she surprised herself with gratitude to the asshole of an agent who’d turned out to be the dark horse in their corner. Mahonin was damned good at his job.  
   
Coming out of hypersleep over the surprisingly lovely planet had been as disorienting as the process usually was, but the four survivors managed it without a repeat of the terror that had been their first awakening on the _Sulaco_. It was a sign they were all healing, one Ripley prayed would hold true in their new home as well.  
   
Chacon’s capable flying had them landing on the pad at 0800 planet time, and from there the squad and survivors were taken via 4x4 to the bank of housing they’d been assigned. Judging from Hardison’s enthusiastic perusal of the buildings as they approached, it was a step up for the Marines. A step up for Ripley too for that matter, even considering the home she’d once had on Earth nearly 60 years prior.  
   
The squad itself had one massive barracks building, each soldier receiving a private room, something they were all thrilled about. Corporal Washburn had even cracked a smile at that; she might be stuck in with the men per the usual, but at least it was in something like comfort until her husband was transferred in to join her.  
   
Ripley and Hicks were in a family suite with Newt and Jonesy-the-cat on the 2nd floor with Connor taking a second suite farther down the hall. It escaped no one’s notice that the survivors’ suite only had two bedrooms. For once, the normally mouthy Marines kept their mouths shut about the likely implications of that arrangement. Ripley guessed they’d maybe seen enough of the reports and vids to begin to understand what the survivors had been through. As soldiers, they’d be more likely to understand the bonds that could form in a combat hell like LV-426 had turned into. Ripley didn’t want to care what anyone thought about her and Hicks shacking up together, but she couldn’t help but admit that it was nice to know that they weren’t in for any blatant disapproval from those they’d been working closely with.  
   
Bishop laid claim to the suite immediately next door to that of the other survivors. Some of the soldiers had raised a bit of a stink over the synthetic getting nicer digs than they did, but a sharp word from Hardison of all people had shut the bitching up quickly. He’d been the closest to Bishop during the abduction debacle. Hardison had explained that the fact that the android had been only two doors down while Newt was taken and subsequently harmed had shaken him in a way a synthetic rarely could be. He’d _chosen_ to believe that Gaines, as an upstanding representative of Weyland-Yutani, would refrain from attacking a child no matter what her objective. It was bad enough that his rage had overcome his behavioral modifiers enough to even allow him to attack Gaines, but that was not the greatest guilt the artificial person was struggling with. His decision had allowed her access to Newt, or at least so he saw it.  Hicks and Ripley had both tried to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, not really, but he wasn’t ready to listen yet. Regardless of whether his actions and choices had been appropriate or not, his behavioral inhibitors were giving him fits, and the only time that he seemed to calm those fits was when he was near enough to Newt to be sure she was safe. He had privately, or not so privately considering that now the entire squad knew, sworn that nothing would happen to the little girl again.  
   
The other survivors preferred the last of their number keep close to them, anyway. It worked all around.  
   
Between the drive and unpacking and the scuffle over rooms, the day passed quickly. Ripley and her new family ate with the men and got their marching orders for in the morning. Then they retired, Bishop leaving for his own room only after Newt had gone to bed for the evening. Ripley honestly wasn’t sure if he would actually sleep in his room or on a pallet in front of their door. It didn’t seem polite to ask, though. For that matter, she wasn’t sure if Newt would sleep any time soon, either. They’d left her a light on, though, and Hicks had done a full sweep of the room, under her bed and in the closet and even in under the dresser, before tucking her in with the ragged teddy bear Chacon had unearthed from who knew where. It had been painfully sweet to watch, Ripley thought: the big strong Marine playing daddy to the little girl. They looked like they could actually be father and daughter, all blond hair and light eyes. The sight of them had clutched at her heart.  
   
She gave Newt one last kiss and then followed behind Hicks, leaving the door a few inches ajar without needing to be asked. Hicks paused at the door to their room, letting her proceed ahead of him before leaving the door just cracked so they could hear Newt if she needed them.  
   
Once inside, the pair of them stood staring, suddenly awkward with the silence and the close proximity. Ripley was surprised to realize this was literally the first moment they’d been alone since the med bay back on the _Sulaco._ The memory of that moment set her trembling, as the desire she’d pushed down surged forward. Hicks, _Dwayne,_ licked his lips and stared at her, his pupils blown as his eyes raked across her figure.  
   
“Ellen,” he breathed, and she shivered at the sound of it. He crossed the room in a few long strides, then reached a hand up to the back of her neck and drew her in for a kiss.  
The kiss was gentle this time in a stark contrast to the frenzy of their first, so unbearably maddeningly gentle. Ellen let herself sink into it, her eyes drifting closed and her hands resting on his hips as she suddenly lacked the strength to lift them. Dwayne deepened the kiss but kept the same almost lazy pace as their mouths mapped each others softly. He began to back her slowly toward their bed, and Ellen trembled again at the thought of the word “theirs.”  
   
She decided Dwayne was wearing too many clothes and her hands slipped upwards pulling his shirt as they went. He pulled back from the kiss just long enough to pull it off over his head and then his mouth was back on hers, hands now lazily stroking down her back and shoulders and around to her ribs and up to cup her breasts. He swallowed her sighs and Ellen almost wondered if she imagined the smirk she caught a glimpse of a brief instant before he deepened the kiss again. She let her own hands wander, skimming across the healing burns and threading through the hair at the back of his neck to pull him even closer.  
   
Her shirt was the next to go, followed swiftly by her bra, and both of them moaned at the feel of skin to skin. He kneaded her breasts gently teasing her nipples until they hardened beneath his touch. He released her mouth and began to kiss and suck his way across her jaw and down her throat. Ellen arched back with a shuddering sigh as he reached her breasts, worshiping them with his tongue and lips.  
   
This was a side Ellen imagined few had ever seen. He was strong and vibrant and so rough around the edges, and any one would expect he’d be hard and fast and dirty in bed, ready to get on, get in, get off, and then out of there type. And later, after they were more sure of each other, he might be on occasion. But here, tonight, for this first time between them, he was showing that softness that had first emerged with Newt, the part of him that wanted to cherish as well as protect.  The feel of it all but staggered her.  
   
Her knees went weak, and one of his arms banded around her, holding her steady, while the other slipped down to undo her pants and slide them and her panties off of her. He brought that hand back up to just rest against her center, and Ellen felt herself buck against him.  
   
“Dwayne, please,” she begged, unable to help it. This time there was no mistaking the smug smirk across his face, and it should not have been as sexy as it was.  
   
“Shhh, Ellen. We’ve got to keep this quiet.” She had the urge to smack him for that and the smirk, but the sudden thrill of him sweeping her up in his arms and settling her softly on their bed stole her will to strike out of him. Instead she shuddered as he dropped the rest of his clothing haphazardly on the floor and climbed in next to her, that smirk and the focus in his eyes still going strong. He propped himself up on one elbow and then leaned in to kiss her again, his hand resuming its previous position.  
   
Then, God, then he began to move, his callused and skillful fingers stroking and rubbing then dipping down and into her, driving her insane as they pumped in and out. Her hips rocked with his hands and she moaned into his mouth as he pushed her higher and higher, closer to the edge. He moved his mouth down to her breasts again, and she writhed even harder, completely unashamed to be reveling in the sensation of him touching her. Of him _choosing_ to touch her, a woman years older and too tall and hardly curvy, and fuck, he felt so good! His fingers curved and pressed just _there,_ and Ellen fell apart, coming hard and turning her head into the pillow to muffle the keen that her orgasm ripped from her.  
   
Dwayne kept stroking her softly, guiding her through the aftershocks and muttering over and over just how sexy she was when she came, all flushed and flustered like she never was in an emergency.  
   
Ellen finally remembered how to breathe, and reached out to pull her soldier in for another kiss, and then all but manhandled him over her, bringing what she really wanted into reach. Nibbling on his lip, she reached down and wrapped her hand around his cock, relishing the way he broke off the kiss to groan, his hips stuttering toward her touch.  
   
“Dwayne, now. I want you in me now, damn it.” He grinned, and lifted himself up between her legs, replacing her hand with his own as he positioned himself.  
   
“Yes, ma’am.” He slid forward and into her as deep as he could, and this time neither of the pair could muffle the sounds they made at the feel of him filling her to bursting. “Fuck, Ellen. You feel so damn good.”  
   
He pulled back and then slid in again and again, finding a long, slow rhythm that she matched stroke for stroke. Time faded from their minds until the only things that existed were her body and his, joining over and over again, the lines between them blurring until they felt more like one body than two.  Dwayne lifted one of her legs over his shoulder and went even deeper, the change in angle driving Ellen up again. She tried, fuck how she tried, to keep her eyes open and on the sight of him sliding in and out of her, but then she came and her eyes closed despite herself.  
   
Dwayne let out an inarticulate curse as she clenched around him, and then with only a few more short shudders of his hips against hers, he let himself go, her name all but falling from his lips as he did. He collapsed against her, more gently than Ellen had expected, but still the full weight of him settled on her. She didn’t mind it, but apparently he did.  
   
“Fuck, I should move. I’m heavy,” he groaned after a moment, trying to push up and off of her. Ellen was having none of it, however, one of her strong legs wrapping up around him and keeping his weight exactly where she wanted it.  
   
“I won’t break, Dwayne. I can handle myself remember?” she said softly, a teasing smile on her face. He finally let himself relax back down onto her with a grin, and he nuzzled her neck softly.  
   
“Yeah, I noticed.”  She felt him smirk against her neck and smiled softly, more that a little smug at the feel of the man wrapped around her.  
   
She knew that in a little while, he’d force himself up and make his way to the bathroom for a rag to clean them both up. They’d each pull on just enough clothing to be decent if they had to check on Newt and if, or when most likely, a nightmare brought her crawling in between them for comfort and safety.  
   
In the morning, there would be the new challenges of work and training and trying to manage life after horror: of acting like a little girl and making new friends for Newt, of re-assimilating into the military for Ellen, and of taking on the new responsibility of his promotion for Dwayne, now _Sergeant_ Hicks instead of mere Corporal. They’d make it one day at a time, as best they could, as long as they could stay together. They’d live.  
   
For now, though, Ellen wrapped her arms around Dwayne and relished in the weight that told her he was really there, alive and well and inexplicably hers. For now, that was more than enough.


End file.
